


Waiting For A Star To Fall

by Funtimewriter



Series: Falling Stars [1]
Category: Adam Levine (Musician), Blake Shelton (Musician), Supernatural, The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Angel/Human Relationships, Angelic Grace, Angelic Lore, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Blake Shelton, Bobby Singer Deals With Idjits, Bobby Singer Lives, Canon-Typical Violence, Confused Castiel, Corruption, Dean Winchester in Denial, Don't Have To Know About Supernatural (TV), Enemies to Friends, Established Relationship, Family Drama, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Illustrated, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Keep Your Eyes On The Moon, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Kissing, Prison, Protective Castiel, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Spoilers, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unrequited Love, Witchcraft, Yeah It's Gonna Hurt, long separation, my world my rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-06 09:34:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 100,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13408425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Funtimewriter/pseuds/Funtimewriter
Summary: A chance encounter and one little mistake was all it took.  Now the Winchester brothers are suddenly joined by a confused cowboy, while Adam must deal with a socially awkward being of immense power.  To get back to each other, Blake and Adam must first convince a broken man and a fallen angel of their true feelings.  But darker forces have other plans for both worlds.





	1. Meteor

**Author's Note:**

> After more of "Spoils," the most frequent request I've had is for another crossover with "Supernatural." Here it is! While technically I'm still filling reader requests, this is the first thing in a while I've written because I wanted to. Maybe that's why it's so long...?
> 
> A few warnings up front. First, this will be a damned slow burn. Second, while this is largely canon compliant, in the end I'm taking the writer's privilege - my world, my rules. Third, this is written in a new way. It's a series with the first part following one group, the second following the other, and the third resolving both of the first two. As a result, both of the first two sections take place over the exact same 28 day time period. I've supplied a very specific method for keeping track of that time period in both stories. So to answer the question of "When are we getting back to...?" before it's asked, the two groups will NOT meet until the third section. Like I said, long, slow burn! Hopefully, it will be worth the wait!
> 
> As always, comments, criticism, and flames are welcome and will be responded to in the spirit they were received! This includes comments here, via e-mail, via Twitter or via Tumblr (contact info in bio). Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spotting a falling star, Adam eagerly goes searching for a meteorite. But he finds something unexpected instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Adam is singing here is "Lost Stars"  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Ri3iIXpYgc
> 
> A lot of characters in this one! When possible, I'll post character pictures as they're introduced

 

           Adam was singing along with himself singing “Lost Stars” on the radio as he drove when an actual falling star came blazing to earth.  Even over the music he heard the impact.  Excited, he immediately took the first side road and headed towards it.  There would be a meteorite from that for sure!  Maybe he could get a piece?  Blake would eat his heart out over that one!  Son of a bitch was impossible since he’d gotten “Sexiest Man Alive.”  For a moment, Adam almost called him to gloat.  No, he decided, wait until he got a good piece of meteorite first.  Then gloat.  Gloat like crazy.

            Lucky for Adam, the road took him very close to where he’d seen the meteorite hit.  There was a bit of brush on fire, but that was going out.  No danger of a fire.  He’d have to be careful, though.  Things were bound to be hot over there.  He pulled over, grabbed a bottle of water he hadn’t finished to cool the meteorite, and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket.  Then he grabbed his phone to use as a flashlight and started out.

            The crater was fairly impressive.  Above him, the sky was perfectly clear and full of stars.  By the light of the full moon, he could see that the meteorite had torn through a tree, leaving branches still smoking, and hit the side of a hill.  Adam estimated the crater was about twenty feet across.  He quickly climbed over the hill and eagerly aimed his light into the crater, searching for his meteorite.

            The still figure of a man was in the crater.

            At first, Adam was irritated, thinking it was another treasure hunter looking for his meteorite.  But then he registered just how _still_ the man was.  He was lying face-down in the crater like a discarded doll, one arm twisted under his chest, the other bent with his hand curled in front of his face.  The man was covered in dirt, rocks, and soot.  Bits of quartz glistened in his hair, giving the man an oddly otherworldly look.

            “Holy shit!  Hey, you alright, buddy?”  Adam swallowed hard.  “Please don’t be dead?”

            The man’s fingers twitched.  He didn’t open his eyes, but he made a small noise.

            Adam quickly climbed down and went to the man’s side.  The crater was baking hot.  And the mysterious man was lying right in the middle of it.  Adam reached down, took his shoulder, and gave him a shake.  “Hey, man, wake up, alright?  You’re gonna get…  Yeah, you’re burned,” he corrected, seeing the red, blistered skin on the man’s hand and face.  Adam pocketed his phone and pulled on the man’s shoulders to raise him up.  He reached under the man’s arms and wrapped his own arms around the man’s chest from behind.  Then he pulled the stranger sideways onto his back and dragged him out of the crater.

            The man shifted slightly and moaned as Adam propped him against the trunk of the tree.  Adam pulled his water bottle out of his jacket pocket, dumped some into his hand, and carefully dashed it into the man’s face.  “Wake up!  Please wake up?”

            “Hmm?”  The man’s eyelids fluttered.  He did not look good.  In the light of the moon, Adam could see the man’s eyes were glazed, his skin a sickly grey.

            “Ok, hold still,” Adam instructed.  He reached for his phone again.  “I’m gonna call you an ambulance.”

            “No!”  The man’s eyes opened.  He took a few breaths, and then struggled to stand.  He wobbled, lost his balance, and fell heavily onto his hands and knees.

            “Hey, calm down, you’re hurt!” Adam called.  He went to the man’s side, kneeling down to get an arm around him.  “You seriously need to go to the hospital!  If you don’t want an ambulance, I can drive you?”

            “No.  No hospital,” the man groaned.  He gently pushed Adam away.  Then he somehow managed to get his feet under himself, getting back up.  “I gotta get back!”

            He fumbled in the pocket of his long coat and produced something.  Adam freaked for a moment, thinking the guy had just pulled out a weapon.  But in the silvery moonlight, Adam recognized what was left of a shattered, broken cell phone.  The man blinked at it, sighed, and let it fall.  “That is not going to work,” he informed Adam.

            “Yeah, I’m thinking it’s probably gone.  Whoa, hey, easy!”  Adam quickly moved to the man’s side, getting an arm around the stranger once more as he swayed and nearly fell.  “Tell you what,” Adam called, casually securing the man’s arm across his shoulders.  “Let me at least get you back to my car, and you can use my phone.  Alright?”  At least if he got the guy into his car before he passed out again, Adam reasoned, he could just drive him to the closest hospital.  By the way he was swaying, leaning heavily against Adam for support, Adam suspected the stranger was going to pass out any minute.  Whatever had happened, it must have been fairly traumatic.

            “Don’t take me to a hospital,” the man warned, seeming to read Adam’s mind.  “Even if I pass out.  Just leave me, I’ll be fine.”

            “Sure, buddy, whatever you say.”  No way he was leaving the guy unconscious on the side of the road!  What kind of asshole did he think Adam was?  Well, at least he was letting Adam walk him back to the car, even though their progress was painfully slow.

            By the time they reached Adam’s car, the man’s eyes were half-closed.  The guy was as tall as he was, and Adam was supporting so much of the stranger’s weight that his lower back was protesting the strain.  He managed to muscle the man into the passenger seat of his car.  The stranger fell, more than sat, into the seat with a little whimper of pain.  Adam frowned.  “Yeah, I’m gonna go ahead and buckle you in, and then you can make that call on the road.”

            “Don’t take me to a hospital,” the man mumbled, blinking his glazed eyes.  In the dome light, they were a deep ocean blue.  He’d probably be handsome if his face wasn’t reddened and blistered, with no eyebrows and part of his dark hair burned off.  “I want to be very clear about that.  No matter what happens to me, you can’t take me to a hospital!”

            “I heard you.”  Adam pulled the seat belt and fastened it snugly around his new friend.  The man was still covered in dirt and grime that was falling from him, littering everything he touched.  Adam would have to vacuum out his car.  But right now, he was more concerned about his passenger going into shock.  Now that Adam could see him clearly, that seemed a real possibility.  His face was a mess, covered in blisters and burns and what looked suspiciously like bruises.  He wore a light-colored trench coat over what looked like an inexpensive business suit, complete with a loose tie.  He looked like an accountant.  But Adam had no explanation for why the guy was lying, in this condition, at the bottom of a meteorite crater.  And he hadn’t gotten his meteorite.  Shit.

            Adam climbed into the driver’s seat, unlocked his phone, and handed it to the man.  “You know the number?”

            The man nodded and dialed.  Adam started the car, which earned him a suspicious look.  But Adam made no move to take the car out of park.  “Dude, it’s cold out, and you’ve been through something,” he explained.  “I need to put the heater on to try to keep you from going into shock.”

            The guy eyed him, then returned to the phone and held it to his ear.  A moment later he frowned.  He lowered the phone, hung up, dialed again, and listened again.  Then he lowered it and frowned again.  “The voice is saying the number cannot be completed as dialed,” he reported.

            “Ah,” Adam said, retrieving his phone and dropping it back into his pocket.  “Well, that sucks.  But you seriously could just be misdialing?  You kind of look like you had your brains rattled, dude.”

            “Maybe.”  The man closed his eyes for a moment.  Then he started fumbling with the seatbelt.  “Thank you for your kindness.  I’ll be going now.”

            “Whoa, slow down, buddy!” Adam called, guarding the seatbelt release with one hand.  “You’re hurt, alright?  You’re bruised and burned and covered with grime!  If you won’t let me take you to a hospital, at least let me get you cleaned up and take a look at your burns!”

            “I’ll be fine,” the man mumbled.  Then he proved it when his eyes rolled back and he went limp against the seat.

            “You’re fine, right, sure, buddy,” Adam grumbled.  He put the car into gear, but hesitated before pulling back onto the road.  A loud argument was taking place in his head.  Part of him wanted to take the guy straight to the hospital, drop him off, and keep going.  But the man had been pretty adamant about not going to a hospital.  Why?  Was he a criminal?  Maybe he just didn’t have insurance?  That was possible.  Adam couldn’t imagine committing a crime dressed the way this guy was.  The outfit would be appropriate for an office grunt.  Adam considered for a moment longer.  Then he pulled out his phone and texted Blake.  Blake responded right away.  Adam texted him back, letting him know he was bringing home an injured man he’d found.  Then he pulled out and headed to the ranch.

            Blake was strolling out to greet him when Adam pulled into the driveway.  The long legs were encased in blue jeans over his usual cowboy boots.  He wore a dark blue plaid shirt, the one Adam loved because it brought out his eyes.  Over it, Blake had pulled on a denim jacket to come outside into the cool night air.  He was also wearing a white Stetson hat.  The big golden belt buckle with the inscription “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” that Adam had given him as a joke gleamed at Blake’s waist.  And the overall picture was sexy as hell.  Adam whimpered.  Blake must have been planning something.  He didn’t look particularly pleased when Adam pulled up, either.  He was frowning slightly, watching with his thumbs hooked into his belt.  But his eyebrow raised when he saw the man in Adam’s passenger seat.

            “He’s hurt, like I said,” Adam called, jumping out of the car and hurrying around to join Blake at the passenger side.

            “I see that,” Blake drawled.  “Get the door, I got him.”

            Adam darted ahead, holding the door open.  Blake scooped the strange man out of the car and carried him inside.  The man’s head lolled against Blake’s shoulder.  His arm hung loosely down, bouncing a bit as Blake walked.  The stranger moaned slightly when Blake gently put him down on the sofa.  But his eyes remained closed.

            Adam sniffed, noticing the delicious aroma in the house.  “You made dinner!”

            “Among other things,” Blake said.

            Adam looked around, taking in the candles and the rose petals leading up the stairs.  He grimaced.  “Oh, fuck me, my timing sucks!”

            “Yes, yes it does,” Blake agreed.  He came over, cupped Adam’s chin, and kissed him.  “But we’ll tend to that later.  Tell me what happened to this fellow here, Rockstar, and why you brought him home instead of taking him to the hospital?”

            Adam explained what had happened.  Blake listened.  The big man was busy going through the stranger’s pockets, seeking identification.  He found a tied, somewhat scorched cloth bag in his left pocket and frowned at it.  “Potpourri?” he asked.

            “Looks like some kind of sachet,” Adam observed.

            Blake sniffed it and made a face.  “Whatever’s in it, it needs replaced,” he announced, continuing to check the man’s pockets.  “The cloth’s so threadbare I’m surprised it’s still in one piece.  It also smells like dusty attic and burned vegetation.  He should…  _Ow, shit!”_

            Adam startled, seeing blood dropping from Blake’s hand.  “Blake, what the hell?” he yelled, running over to inspect the wound.

            “He’s got something sharp up his sleeve,” Blake reported.  He frowned down at his hand, absently dropping the sachet into the pocket of his jacket so he could poke at his wound.  “It cut my hand when I pulled on his arm, trying to check his other pocket.  Got me good!  Sliced my fingers right open!  I don’t think it’s deep, though.”

            “No, but it’s long,” Adam observed.  “Let’s go wash it out.”

            “In a moment.”  Blake gingerly lifted the man’s right sleeve.  “There, see it?  Something metallic strapped to his arm.”

            “I’ll get it.”

            “Be careful!”

            “I will!  We need to know what this is.  You might need stitches, or a tetanus shot.”

            “I had one last year when I tripped over that damned barbed wire,” Blake reminded.  “And I ain’t getting stitches.”  He grimaced.  “Bleeding all over the damned floor.”

            Adam carefully slid back the sleeve of the stranger’s trench coat, then peeled back the sleeve of his suit coat and shirt.  He discovered some sort of wrist sheath.  It was designed so that the wearer could twist his wrist a certain way, and the contents of the sheath would slide down along the arm to the hand.  But the metallic object in the sheath made Adam blink.  He carefully drew it free, took it in hand, and turned to show it to Blake.

            Blake stared.  “What the fuck is that?!” he exclaimed.  “That looks like a damned medieval dagger or something!”

            Adam was staring at the blood that coated the blade.  “It’s gotta be sharp as hell to have cut you like that,” he noted.  “This is crazy!  Why would anyone have something like this strapped in a sheath hidden up their sleeve?”

            “I don’t know,” Blake declared, “but what would you have done if he’d pulled that on you while you were alone in the car with him?”

            The man gave a slight moan and shifted.  Blake and Adam froze.  But the man didn’t wake up.

            Blake carefully reached out his uninjured hand and pulled Adam back.  “Stay back here and watch him,” he ordered quietly.  “If he wakes up, yell.”

            “What are you going to do?” Adam whispered.

            “Get my damned gun, that’s what I’m going to do!” Blake declared.

            Adam made a face.  He hated guns and hated more that Blake insisted on having them in the house.  But right now, holding the dagger covered with Blake’s blood, for the first time Adam was almost glad Blake was a gun lover.

            Blake quickly headed into the other room, and a moment later, returned with his pistol.  He’d wrapped a blue handkerchief around his hand to stem the bleeding.  His hastily-dressed hand was held towards Adam, warding him back while his blue eyes remained locked on the stranger on the couch.  The muzzle of the pistol was pointed towards the floor.  Adam wasn’t sure what he thought about that.  He was glad Blake wasn’t willing to simply aim a loaded weapon at an unconscious man, but at the same time, anyone who carried a razor-sharp medieval dagger in a hidden sheath on his arm was scary as hell.

            “Adam, I think we should call the police,” Blake said, moving to stand next to Adam.  “This guy could be some sort of mob hit man or something, and he didn’t want to go to the hospital because he’d get arrested!”

            Adam nodded.  He reached for the cordless phone next to the recliner, but froze when the man moaned again.  This time, he opened his eyes.  “Where am I?” he asked in a gravely voice.

            “Never mind that for now,” Blake called, moving to step protectively in front of Adam.  “You’re safe enough here.  Who are you?”

            The stranger’s blue eyes took in the room and Adam and Blake.  They glanced at Blake’s pistol without concern, but froze at the sight of the dagger still in Adam’s hand.  Then they rose to Adam’s face.  “May I ask what you’re planning to do with that?”

            “Blake asked you a question,” Adam barked.  “Who are you?”

            “Castiel,” the man replied.  His eyes flickered between the two of them before returning to the dagger.  “I’m an angel of the Lord.”

            “Great, he’s a nut,” Adam sighed.  “I don’t know if that’s better or worse than a mob hit man!”

            “Ok, Castiel,” Blake said, stumbling over the unusual name.  “Why did you have that dagger hidden up your sleeve?”

            “Likely for the same reason you have that pistol.”  Castiel swung his legs off the side of the couch and sat up with a wince.

            “Whoa, hold yer horses!” Blake yelled, hastily pushing Adam back and backing up.  “You just sit right there on your ass, pal.  You didn’t answer our question!”

            “I most certainly did,” Castiel retorted moodily.  “I assume you carry that pistol for defense, correct?  I carry my blade for the same reason.  I would appreciate it if you returned it.  Then I’ll be on my way.”  He looked around again.  “This is a private residence?  Why have you taken me to this place?”

            “Your next stop is prison,” Adam declared, grabbing the cordless phone on the side table.

            Castiel sighed.  He lowered his head to his hands.  And then he raised his head again, revealing completely intact, fully healed skin.  Even the burned-off eyebrows and hair had returned.  “I really do not have time for this,” he announced to his stunned hosts.  “Thank you for your attempts to assist me.  Now return my blade and I’ll be going.  There is no need to involve the police.”

            “What the hell?” Adam murmured.

            Blake’s eyes were very wide.  “Call the cops, Adam!” he ordered.

            “Right!”  Adam started dialing.

            “Please, there is no need for this!” Castiel protested.  “I mean you no harm.  Just give me back my weapon and I’ll go!”

            Blake frowned at him.  “Mister, you just need to relax until the police get here.  Just…  Hey!  Sit your ass down!”

            Castiel had stood up.  He seemed considerably less wobbly.  The blue eyes were cold and unforgiving as they locked with Adam’s.  “My weapon,” he called, holding out his hand.  “Return it.  Now.”

            Blake raised his pistol, and then everything happened at once.  Castiel darted forward towards Adam.  Blake moved to intercept.  A trench coated arm lashed out, Blake yelped, and the pistol went flying.  The sound it made when it landed and went off was deafening, but Adam barely heard it.  The only thing he heard was Blake’s cry of pain when Castiel struck his arm and shoved him aside.  He’d hurt Blake.  Adam had only tried to help him, and the son of a bitch had _hurt Blake!_   Adam saw red.  The phone, forgotten, fell as his hand tightened on the dagger.  He jerked his arm away as Castiel tried to grab him, swung it out in a tight arc, and then slashed forward without thinking.

            Castiel screamed in pain, his hand moving to the gash Adam had just carved in his side.  The wound didn’t bleed.  Instead it somehow _glowed,_ blazing with white light as if his skin was only a covering for the most brilliant of light bulbs.

            Then the light was covered up with six and a half feet of furious cowboy when Blake dove on Castiel and they both crashed to the floor.

            “Get him, Big Country!” Adam whooped.  He was about to dive in when Blake suddenly went flying.  The big man sailed across the living room, landed in the recliner, and kept going, knocking the recliner backwards.  Blake rolled head over heels off the back of the chair to land on his ass, legs splayed and his hands on the floor behind him.  Somehow, his hat, although crumpled and somewhat askew, was still on his head.

            And then Adam’s wrist was caught in a hand that felt like it was made of solid steel.  He gasped, turned and stared right into the impassive face of the stranger in the trench coat.  “I’m sorry,” Castiel said.  “It’s clear to me that the two of you were only trying to help me, and I’ve no desire to hurt either of you.  But there is far more happening right now than you are capable of understanding.”

            “Take your fucking hands off of Adam!” Blake roared, springing to his feet.

            To Adam’s surprise, Castiel obeyed.  He released Adam’s wrist, leaving the dagger still in Adam’s hand.  “You know now that my blade can hurt me,” he announced.  “So I’m letting you keep it as a sign of good faith.  Now stop attacking me and let me get to work!”

            Adam held the dagger in front of him with shaking hands, quickly backing towards Blake.  Blake got to his feet, grabbed his pistol, and once again put an arm protectively in front of Adam.  “What the hell do you want?” Blake called.

            “I already told you!” Castiel grumbled.  “I want you to stop attacking me so I can get to work!  I’ve already been gone for far too long.  Dean might need help!  I’ve got to get back!”

            “He making any sense to you?” Adam mumbled to Blake.  Blake only shook his head.

            The two watched warily as Castiel busied himself around the living room.  He picked up the sofa and tossed it to one side like it weighed nothing.  Then, oblivious to the stunned expressions of his hosts, he got into his right pocket and produced what looked like a piece of chalk.  He went down on his hands and knees and started drawing with the chalk on the hardwood floor.  A large circle appeared, filled with odd drawings and squiggly lines.  Finished, Castiel inspected his work, stepping carefully to avoid smudging anything.  Then he nodded and pocketed the chalk.

            Blake and Adam just stared.

            Castiel’s eyes moved to Adam.  “May I please have my weapon back?”

            “Fuck you,” Adam told him.  Blake backed him up by leveling his pistol at Castiel again.

            Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Fine, keep it, I’ll get another.  I just hope it’s not needed before I’m able to return to Heaven!”  And then he held his hands over the symbols and began to chant in an unknown language.

            The chalk symbols began to glow.

            Blake quickly pushed Adam even farther back.  But as Castiel continued to chant, something odd caught Adam’s eye.  Light was shining up from the pocket of Blake’s denim jacket.  “Blake!” he called.  “Your pocket!  What’s that?”

            Blake looked down.  He dropped his hand into the pocket of his jacket and produced the sachet.  Like the chalk lines, the sachet was glowing.

            Castiel, finished with his chanting, looked up and gasped at the sight of the object in Blake’s hand.  His hand darted into his pocket.  Then his eyes grew wide with horror.  “Give it to me, quickly!” he yelled, running forward.

            Too late.  Blake was looking at Adam with wide, frightened eyes.  And then he was gone.  There was no puff of smoke, no flash of light.  He was simply gone.  Where the greatest love of Adam’s life had been, there was now only empty space.

            _“No!”_ Castiel screamed.  He staggered to a stop in the spot Blake had been.  His fists clenched.  “No,” he moaned.  “No, I can’t be trapped here, I need to get back!  I…”

            “Where is he?!” Adam yelled.  “Where’s Blake?”

            “Gone,” Castiel whispered.

            Adam grabbed him by the lapels of his trench coat and gave him a harsh shake.  _“Bring him back!”_

            “I can’t!”  Castiel’s voice was little more than a soft moan.  “He’s gone, and I’m trapped here, and…”

            Adam didn’t think.  He felt as if someone had reached into his chest and torn out his heart.  The pain was immense.  He never even considered the implications of his actions.  He simply raised up the hand with the dagger and sent it flashing down towards the chest of the stunned man in the trench coat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun said this is an "interesting" predicament. Wonders where Blake went, thinks he knows who he's meeting now.


	2. The Cowboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Dean, and Bobby are anxiously awaiting Cass's return. But they meet a tall, very confused cowboy instead!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point on, this story will follow the events with these characters. It will NOT go back to Adam and Cass until the next installment of the series! But neither group is completely isolated from the other. From time to time, we will see a bit of overlap. Keep your eyes open, and enjoy the ride! This one's a long journey!
> 
> Song here, for no particular reason, is "Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy" by Big and Rich  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9ZbuIRPwFg  
> This song always makes me think of Blake anyway.

            Dean felt like he’d been pacing for hours.  Any minute now, the fire department might show up.  They’d been careful to extinguish all the lingering flames in the building, but smoke still hung in a dark, hazy cloud above them.  Anyone who had seen it would surely call it in.  They couldn’t be caught here.  It was past time to leave.  But still, he lingered.  “He’ll come back,” he called.  “We just gotta give him more time!”

            “Dean?” Sammy called softly.  “We can’t wait here much longer.”

            “I know!” Dean yelled.  “But we can wait a little bit more, alright?  We can’t just give up on him, dammit, he just saved all of our lives!  _Again!_ ”

            “No one’s arguing that, Dean.”  Bobby’s voice was unusually gentle.  “Cass did a hell of a brave thing, knocking that efreet through the portal the way he did.  But it was a portal into the underworld, and he went through it grappling with a spirit of fire!”

            “He’s an angel!” Dean pointed out.  “He’s been in and out of hell at least a dozen times and came out alright, didn’t he?  He’ll be fine!  He might just get a little cooked is all.  Maybe he’ll even get a tan?”  Dean forced a cocky grin.  “Wouldn’t that be something?  Our Cass with a tan?”

            “Frankly, it’s the hex bag I’m worried about,” Sammy sighed.  “It was powerful, but it was really old.  The spell components would be dried and brittle.  It would catch fire easily if Cass wasn’t careful!”

            “Even if it was damaged a little, that could be trouble,” Bobby agreed.  “Once he got free from that efreet, he was supposed to come back here.  But if the hex bag was damaged, then Cass could very easily have ended up somewhere else.  For all we know, he could be…”

            “Ha!”  Dean couldn’t hide his relieved smile when the spell glyphs on the floor suddenly started to glow.  “Oh ye of little faith!  Here he comes now.  Come on, Cass, get your feathered ass back here!  We gotta move!”

            But it wasn’t Cass who appeared in the glyphs.  A giant of a man dressed as a cowboy, complete with hat, boots, and an oversized gold belt buckle, stumbled and then fell, landing on his hands and knees.  One hand clutched a pistol.  The other held a familiar cloth bag.

            “No, no, no!” Dean yelped.  Ignoring the man blinking up at him, Dean grabbed the hex bag.  When the damaged cloth opened, spilling a variety of bones, bits, and herbs onto the blackened floor, he let out a howl of negation.  “Son of a bitch!  What happened?!  Where’s Cass?!”

            Sammy and Bobby had already stepped forward.  The cowboy was suddenly staring down the barrel of two drawn pistols.  His blue eyes went wide.  He let go of his own weapon and slowly raised his hands, going back onto his knees.  “Don’t shoot,” he called.  “Can anyone tell me exactly what the fuck is going on here?”

            “You’re hurt,” Sammy noted.  He indicated the man’s hand, which bore a long cut and was covered with drying blood.

            The man glanced at his hand.  “Yeah, I’ll get that taken care of later.”

            “What happened?”

            The cowboy hesitated.  “Long story?”

            “About this long?”  Dean pulled his angel blade and showed it to the man.  Paydirt.  The blue eyes widened in recognition, and that was all the conformation Dean needed.  “Alright, Cowboy Bill,” he ordered.  “Start talking, now!”

            “Balls!”  Bobby looked back, hearing the sound of approaching sirens.  “That’s the fire department.  We’re out of time, boys, we gotta go now!”

            “No, wait!”  Dean started frantically gathering up the components from the ruined hex bag.  “I can stitch this bitch back together.  We can still get Cass back!”

            “Dean, he’s gone!”  Sammy grabbed his brother’s shoulder, heaving him to his feet.  “We gotta go, and we gotta go now!”

            “What about him?”  Bobby jerked his head towards the cowboy.

            The cowboy was still kneeling with his hands raised.  He swallowed hard.  “I’m fine, really,” he called, waving them away.  “Y’all just go ahead.”

            “We can’t leave him here,” Sammy noted.  “Cass must have sent him through for a reason, right?”

            “And apparently, Cass took a swipe at him!” Bobby pointed out.  “Cut his hand with an angel blade!”

            “That was an accident!” the cowboy protested.  “He never tried to cut me, that happened when I grabbed it!”

            Dean blinked at him.  “You did what?  You telling me that you actually fought with Cass?!”

            The cowboy stuttered, his eyes flickering between Dean’s blade and the pistols of the other two.  “No!  I mean, yes, but…”

            “We don’t have time for this, boys!” Bobby declared, glancing anxiously back at the approaching sirens.  “We gotta go!”

            “And we gotta take him,” Sammy insisted, pointing at the cowboy.  “Cass is lost, and this guy here may be our only chance to get him back!”

            “Son of a…!”  Dean shoved the hex bag and whatever he’d been able to gather up into the pocket of his jacket and re-sheathed his angel blade.  Then he grabbed the cowboy’s pistol in one hand and his arm in the other, dragging him to his feet.  “Ok, we gotta - Holy shit, you’re taller than Sammy! - We gotta go, cowboy!  We’ll explain everything later, but this isn’t optional.  Now come on!”

            Fortunately, the cowboy didn’t argue.  Dean fully intended to pistol whip him into unconsciousness and drag him if he did.  Instead, he stumbled along after Dean as they raced for Baby.  There, Dean shoved him into the back seat with Bobby, jumped into the driver’s seat, started her up, and peeled out. 

            Now that they were safely on the road, reaction began to set in.  Dean’s breathing was coming fast.  Gone.  His brave, selfless Cass was gone.  His angel was lost, trapped on some other plane, or some alternate version of reality.  And worse, there didn’t seem to be anything that Dean could do to get him back!  _What if I never see him again?_   The thought made a sick feeling of fear rise that made him want to throw up.  As usual, that made him angry.  His lips curled back in a snarl.  “Fuck!” he yelled, pounding on the Impala’s steering wheel with the palm of one hand.  _“Fuck!_   Damn you, Cass!  That fucking idiot, I knew I shouldn’t have let him try that shit!”

            “He didn’t have a choice, Dean.”  Bobby’s voice was soothing from the back seat.  “That efreet was too strong for a simple banishing spell.  It had too good of a grip on this plane.  The only way it was going through that portal was for someone to physically shove it.  And Cass was the only one who could do it!”

            “I just don’t understand why he’d send this guy and not return himself,” Sammy pondered.  He turned towards their new guest.  “Did he say anything to you?”

            “No,” the cowboy mumbled.  He was hunched in the seat, almost appearing to be trying to sink into it.  Beneath the rim of his hat, the blue eyes were darting anxiously around.  His knuckles were white as his hands clenched at each other in his lap.

            Sammy frowned.  “Well, he must have said something!  What, did he just decide to send you here on a whim?”

            “I guess?”  The cowboy’s voice was barely a whisper.

            “Ok, listen, asshole,” Dean growled, glaring at the cowboy in the rearview mirror.  “Playtime is officially over.  You need to give us some straight answers!  You can tell us on your own, or we can beat it out of you.  But one way or another, you are going to talk to us!”

            The cowboy’s eyes went very wide.

            “Dean!” Bobby snapped.  He turned to the cowboy and his grizzled face curled into a smile.  “Hi there!  Sorry about all this.  Dean’s alright, he’s just a little shook up.  We all are.  This is, well, kind of unexpected.”

            “Yeah, you could say that again,” the cowboy said.  He was eyeing Dean like he would a ticking bomb.

            Bobby extended his hand.  “I’m Bobby, Bobby Singer.  The loudmouth is Dean Winchester, and the six-foot-four shaggy guy in the passenger seat is his little brother, Sam.”

            The cowboy looked at the offered hand, looked up at Bobby, looked back at the hand, and gingerly shook.  “Normally I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I can’t say it is.  Y’all just kidnapped me!  That’s a federal offense!  Y’all know that, right?  So how about you pull over and just let me out, and we’ll call it square?”

            Apparently, the guy thought he was funny.  Unfortunately for him, Dean was in no mood to laugh.  “Like hell we will!” Dean growled.  “We need you to get Cass back.  You’re not going anywhere!”

            The cowboy stiffened.

            Sammy turned in his seat and offered a reassuring smile.  “Hi!  Um, listen, I know this is probably quite a shock for you.  I-I don’t know what happened or where you came from, so I’m going to just try to fill you in from the beginning, alright?”

            The cowboy nodded.  “I think I’d appreciate that.”

            “Ok!” Sammy said cheerfully.  “The three of us, myself and my brother and Bobby?  W-we hunt monsters.  Ghosts, demons, vampires, werewolves, that sort of thing?  They’re real.  By now, that probably doesn’t surprise you anymore.”

            “Not after today, no,” the cowboy admitted.  His eyes flickered between Sammy and the darkness outside of his window.

            “Anyway, our friend, the one you met, that sent you here?  Castiel?” Sammy continued.  “He’s an angel.  Like, um, an actual angel, with wings, from Heaven?”

            “He sure as hell don’t act like one,” the cowboy grumbled.

            Sammy rubbed at the back of his neck.  “Um, yeah, they aren’t exactly what people expect.  Believe me, I understand!  But anyway, Cass?  He’s a real close friend of ours, and he sometimes comes in and helps us hunt monsters.  This time, we went after an efreet.  I-It’s like a special kind of fire spirit, and, um, it’s drawn to the blood of murder victims who want revenge.  That’s what drew this one, a serial killer.  The police handled the murderer, but they had no idea what was going on, that people were still dying.  So that’s where hunters like us came in.  So some other hunters, they came out here, and found an efreet.”

            “Nasty one,” Dean added.  “There were so many victims who wanted revenge that the bastard came in damned strong.  Killed three other hunters!”

            “They’re not usually too hard to get rid of,” Bobby explained.  “But this one really wanted to stay!  Twice a spell was cast to create a portal and banish it back, and twice it killed the hunters who’d cast it.  So they called us in for back-up.  When we tried it, we took extra precautions to make sure it went through.”

            “No, _we_ did not,” Dean corrected.  His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel.  “What actually happened was that _Cass_ volunteered to knock that efreet through the portal while _we_ stood around with our thumbs up our asses!”

            “Cass gave himself a lifeline,” Sammy said, picking up the story again with a glance at Dean.  “He knew that if the efreet fought, he would likely be dragged into the portal with it.  But Cass is tough.  He believed that even if he was dragged in, he could fight it off and come back, so long as he had an anchor.  And that’s what that hex bag was.  It’s a focus, a-a spell focus, really old, and powerful enough that Cass could use it to pull himself back here.  He even got an extra enchantment put on it from this witch we know, just in case he ended up somewhere unexpected.  So, bottom line, wherever he ended up when he got dragged through that portal, he should have been able to use hex bag you had to get back!”

            “And I still say that bitch Rowena pulled a fast one!” Dean snapped.  “Cass was real funny, the way he is when he’s hiding something.  And he wouldn’t go into any sort of detail on that extra enchantment.”

            “Dean, Cass isn’t stupid!” Bobby pointed out.  “He knew he was taking a chance as it was, or he never would have gone to Crowley for that damned hex bag!”

            “Oh, no shit!” Dean spat.  “But you can’t trust Rowena any more than you can trust Crowley.  Hell, I trust Crowley more!  And you know how Cass is.  He’s so big picture that he doesn’t catch the details!  And he tends to think others, even slimy bastards like Crowley and Rowena, will keep their word.”  He paused.  “Although, to be honest, Crowley does usually keep to his word.”

            “The problem is, Crowley’s so slippery that he always leaves himself some sort of an out,” Sam pointed out.  “So yeah, it honestly wouldn’t surprise me if what happened to Cass will end up benefiting him or Rowena in some way.”

            “I get that.  But you wanna know what I don’t get?” Dean called.  His eyes moved to the rearview mirror and fixed on the figure still trying to make himself as small as possible in the back seat.  “I don’t get you!  Why the hell do you have that bag, Cowboy Bill?  What’s so special about you?”

            Cowboy Bill looked acutely uncomfortable.  His long legs were cramped, his knees pressed against the back of the front seat behind Dean.  His arms were now crossed protectively over his chest.  He ducked his head, seeming to be trying to hide beneath the rim of his hat.  Then he shrugged.

            “Alright, that does it!” Dean declared.  “Cass would not just send some random cowboy back to us.  Either he sent Cowboy Bill to us because he’s got something we need, or this son of a bitch did something to Cass!  Either way, we need to know, because there is one thing I know for sure.”  He jerked a thumb towards Cowboy Bill.  “This guy is the only one who knows where Cass is!  So whatever happened, we can’t get to Cass without him.  We tried the nice talk thing, and he ain’t talking nice.  So now I need some answers!”

            “Dean, would you calm down?” Sammy exclaimed.  He was making his bitch face again.  “Look at the guy, would you?  I mean, he’s scared to death!”

            “And he ain’t wrong when he said we just kidnapped him,” Bobby pointed out.  “He got dragged here from God knows where and immediately got grabbed and forced into a car by three strange men, one of whom keeps threatening him!  Truth be told, if I was him?  I’d be shitting my britches about now!”

            Dean cursed under his breath through gritted teeth.  He rolled up to a stop sign and used the opportunity to turn and face Bobby and Sammy.  “I,” he declared, “do not have the time nor the patience to dick around with this!  Cass is out there somewhere, all by himself, possibly still fighting that efreet!  He could be hurt, dammit!  And without that hex bag, he can’t get back!  Now unless this cowboy…”

            A sudden draft of cool air filled the Impala’s interior.  And Cowboy Bill was gone, out the door and racing away into the night.

            Dean stared.  “Aw, come on!”

            “Great job, Dean!” Sammy called, scrambling out the door.

            “Yeah, nice work, ya idjit,” Bobby growled, climbing out as well.

            Dean cursed savagely.  He pulled over, parked Baby on the shoulder of the road, grabbed her keys, and charged out after Cowboy Bill.

            The long-legged bastard had a decent head start.  The night had started out clear but had quickly turned cloudy, threatening rain and dimming the light of the full moon.  Dean could barely see anything.  “Where’d he go?” he yelled.

            “That way,” Bobby yelled back.  “Over the hill!  Sammy’s after him.  I’m too damned old for this shit!”

            Dean legged it down the hill and encountered a fence.  It must be some sort of grazing field for livestock.  He found the gate left open a short distance away, slipped through, and raced through the field.  Ahead, he heard Sammy shouting.  And then he heard a distinct series of rhythmic thuds.  _Wait a second,_ he thought.  _Are those… hoofbeats?_

            A moment later, Cowboy Bill charged off to Dean’s right, heading towards the open gate, perched astride a big white horse.  For a moment, Dean froze, lost in the geek thrill of seeing a mounted cowboy charging away right in front of him.  “Awesome!”

            Then he realized that the cowboy was, in fact, charging away right in front of him.  “You have got to be shitting me!” Dean groaned.  He bolted through the gate, got back to the road, hopped back in the Impala, and tore after the galloping horse.

            Cowboy Bill had a head start, but he was keeping to the road.  Considering how dark it was, that was probably wise.  Keeping to the road meant it was less likely the horse would stumble or fall in the darkness.  But Dean’s Baby was able to catch up to him fairly quickly.  Bill looked back, saw Dean, and dug his heels into the horse’s sides.  The horse responded, racing forward and then into a sharp left turn.

            Dean yanked the wheel hard to the left.  Baby skidded, tires squealing.  She fishtailed once and then was heading down the side road after Cowboy Bill.  Dean pulled up alongside, lowered his window, and stuck out his head.  “Knock this shit off!” he yelled.  “You can’t…”

            A cowboy boot kicked him in the face.  Dean swore, fell back, and clutched his bleeding lip.  Baby swerved.  Then the horse shied and reared up when Dean, furious, pulled up in front of it, cutting off its path.

            Cowboy fucking Bill found himself thrown forward against the horse’s neck.  And then he tumbled off and onto the ground with a grunt of pain that made Dean feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

            Dean was out the door and on top of him in an instant.  But he’d forgotten how big the cowboy was.  Bill reminded him fast when he rocked Dean’s world with a hard hit to Dean’s temple, making his head spin and the world go gray for a moment.  The hick bastard hit like a Mac truck.  Stars exploded in Dean’s field of vision, but lucky for Dean, he recovered fast.  He got back up just as Bill was trying to scramble back to his feet, diving forward and catching the cowboy around the thighs.  Once again, Bill went down.  “Get offa me!” Bill yelled, kicking.  “Leave me alone!”

            “Oh, hell no!  _Sammy!  Bobby!  I got the son of a bitch!_   Hold still, asshole!”

            “Fuck you!”

            The guy was nearly as strong as the horse he’d been riding.  He was also determined to escape.  He pounded Dean, threw him twice more, and nearly managed to get away before Sammy got there.  It took both of them to finally get the cowboy down and controlled on the ground.  Then Bobby made his wheezing way back to them, and the three of them got Cowboy Bill’s hands tied behind his back.  Even then, he struggled.  Bill strained and pulled at the ropes, kicked at the three of them, and fought to keep from being forced back into the Impala.  When they finally muscled him inside and secured him with the seat belt, he kicked furiously at the back of Dean’s seat.  “Fucking let me go!” he roared.  “I don’t know anything about this shit, alright?!  Angels and hex bags and monsters and fucking portals?  Fuck that!  Just let me go!  _Let me go!”_

            Bobby kept as far away as he could get as the cowboy punctuated his yelling with more kicks to the back of Dean’s seat.  He raised his hands imploringly.  “Alright, just calm down…”

            Another kick.  “Go fuck yourself!”

            “You kiss your momma with that mouth?” Dean called.

            “You suck off your daddy with yours?” Bill shot back.

            “Ok, let’s everyone simmer down,” Sam said, seeing Dean bristle.  “Listen, cowboy, I know you’re really upset…”

            “Gee, pal, do you think?!”

            “…A-and I get it, alright?  I mean, I’d be upset, anyone would be upset!  But we seriously are not going to hurt you!”

            “You wanna tell that to that asshole driving?” Bill spat.  “Bastard gave me a black eye!”

            “You started it, cock bag!” Dean declared.  “You’re the one who kicked me in the face!”

            “After you threatened to torture me!”

            “You did threaten to torture him, Dean,” Bobby supplied unhelpfully.  Dean glowered at him in the rearview mirror.

            “Listen, I’m sorry Dean did that,” Sammy was saying, earning himself a withering glare from Dean.  “But no one is going to torture you, alright?  We all just really got off on the wrong foot here!”

            “Oh really?” Bill drawled.  “Now see, that’s a funny thing.  I’ve gotten off on the wrong foot with a whole hell of a lot of people in my life.  Pissed a lot of people off.  But do you know what never happened to me before?  No one ever shoved a gun or a fucking medieval dagger in my face before!  No one ever tied me up or forced me into a car before!  No one ever fucking kidnapped me so they could perform a spell to open a magic portal before, either!  Whole hell of a lot of firsts going on today!”  He kicked the seat again.  “Everything was fine until your asshole angel buddy showed up!”

            “Why don’t you watch your mouth about my angel, Cowboy Bill?!” Dean warned.

            “Why don’t you suck my cock?” Bill snapped.  “I didn’t even know magic was real, and suddenly there’s an angel casting a fucking spell in my living room!  You assholes think I actually wanted any of this?!”  Another kick to Dean’s seat.  “I’m a newlywed, dammit!  All I wanted was to get laid tonight!  Now look at this shit!”

            Sammy pinched his lips together and raised his hands.  “Alright.  I-I’m going to just back off and let you settle down on your own for now.”

            Bill grunted.  He gave the back of Dean’s seat yet another kick.  Then he stared moodily out the window.  “Think you could untie me, at least?” he asked.  “These ropes are digging into my wrists!  How long are you planning to keep me tied up like this?”

            “We’re about two hours away from the motel,” Bobby noted.  “Sorry, but I don’t think we can untie you, buddy.”

            “Then just leave me the fuck alone,” Bill grumbled, still staring out the window.

            Bobby cocked an eyebrow, sighed, and nodded.  “Whatever you want, cowboy.”

            “You know, I’m almost sorry I picked up his hat,” Dean announced.  “But I couldn’t leave it behind.  It really is a true cowboy hat!  He was running and racing on a horse, and the damned thing never came off until he got thrown!  Yippee ki yay!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun added "motherfucker" to Dean's cowboy yell. Laughed at Blake on the horse. Said Dean should have known Blake was going to take off when he pulled up to that stop sign. "Why the hell wouldn't he?"


	3. Sleezy Motel Rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake tries to understand where he is and what his captors want with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I am not breaking the third wall here. Sam and Dean traveling to a reality where they're on a TV show is actually canon!
> 
> http://supernatural.wikia.com/wiki/The_French_Mistake

            Two hours later, not only was Blake’s eye throbbing and swollen partly shut, but his hands were numb and his arms ached.  He was sure he had cuts in his wrists where the ropes had dug in.  Granted, he’d probably done some of that himself by struggling.  But what else could he do?  He had no idea what the three men who’d abducted him had in mind for him.  And he certainly didn’t intend to go down without a fight!

            Blake shifted his arms, wincing.  Being tied up sucked.  He never did get what bondage freaks got out of it, but now he was positive he’d never be into it.  Of course, not even a bondage freak would get much pleasure out of his current situation.  He was trapped in a car with three strange men, being driven off to God alone knew where, where God alone knew what they’d do to him.  Only an idiot would enjoy that!  But in the bedroom, things would likely be different.  Adam had hinted that it was something he might like to try.  Adam tied naked to the bed was something Blake could certainly see the appeal of!

            _Adam._

            Blake grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head rest against the window.  What had happened to Adam?  He was alone, back in the house with the crazy angel and only the weird silver dagger to defend himself with.  The thought terrified Blake.  Castiel had seemed like he hadn’t actually wished to hurt them, once the initial shock had worn off.  Judging by the way he’d thrown Blake and hefted the sofa, the angel was horrifyingly strong.  If he’d wanted to hurt them, Blake had no doubt he could have done so.  But what would Castiel do if he really was trapped with Adam?  Blake had to make sure Adam was alright.  His cell phone was a comforting weight in the inside breast pocket of his denim jacket.  Hopefully, it hadn’t been broken in his disastrous escape attempt.  Fortunately, Blake’s captors hadn’t thought to search him.  As long as the phone was there, he still had a chance.

            He just wished they would untie his hands.

            The older man, Bobby, was snoring in the seat next to him, his head back and his mouth open.  Sam was awake, but silent, watching out the windshield as his brother drove.  Dean was also silent.  Of the three, Dean was obviously the most dangerous.  He was rash and unpredictable, and for some reason, it seemed as if the other two were walking on eggshells around him.  One thing Blake knew for certain was that all three of his kidnappers believed that Blake had been intentionally sent here by Castiel.  What would happen if they found out the truth, that he’d been brought here only because he’d unknowingly taken what was apparently Castiel’s only ticket home?

            Blake didn’t think he wanted to find out. 

            Still, it didn’t make sense.  If Castiel really was an angel, couldn’t he just fly back?  Why bother with the portal at all?  Something more had happened tonight than Blake realized.  All three men seemed to honestly believe that Castiel couldn’t get back to them without the little bag.  Why not?  Even if for some reason he couldn’t fly, couldn’t he just catch a plane?  Drive?  Hitchhike?  It was weird, and Blake didn’t like it.  For now, he decided to play it cool.  Let the three believe he’d been intentionally sent here.  It was his best option.

            The radio played classic rock as they traveled.  Blake had been watching road signs, and, near as he could tell, they were somewhere near Scranton, Pennsylvania.  How the hell had he gone from the ranch in Oklahoma to Pennsylvania?  Magic, obviously.  Hell of a way to travel.  Blake had already decided he’d take a pass on any future trips through magical portals.  The one to come here had been disorienting as hell.  He’d felt as though he’d been somehow dragged along a rocky dirt road, scraped up in some way outside of the physical, but just as painful.  If that was the way these people typically traveled, Blake would stick to the car, thank you very much.  At least the car was nice.  In the dark, Blake hadn’t seen it except that it was big and dark colored.  He couldn’t tell much from the back seat about the interior.  The engine sounded powerful.  Dean must keep it in shape.  At least he had that much going for him.

            The car slowed, pulling into a dive of a motel.  Several of the letters in the sign weren’t functioning, making it difficult to tell the name of it.  Whatever it was, Blake didn’t believe it was part of any major national chain.

            Blake yelled and swore and fought when they dragged him into the motel room, but none of them seemed particularly upset about it.  He quickly realized that, in a hellhole like this, someone tied up, screaming, and fighting being dragged into one of the rooms might not be all that uncommon.  It was not a comforting thought.  He was pushed over to the bed farthest from the door, where he sat and sulked, watching the three warily.

            Sam came over, smiling pleasantly.  “Ok, you probably want untied?”

            “Yeah, that would be nice,” Blake offered, “considering the ropes are cutting into my wrists, my shoulders are killing me and I can’t feel my hands anymore!”

            “Yeah, um, I’m really sorry about that,” Sam apologized.  “It’s kind of hard to be gentle when someone’s fighting like you were.”

            “Is this something you three do a lot?” Blake asked.  “Kidnap people, tie them up, throw them into your car and drag them into nasty motel rooms?  Is there, like, a club membership you’ve got where you compare notes on people you’ve kidnapped, kind of like AAA for the mentally deranged?  Do you get discounts for the rooms, group rates, frequent flyer miles?”

            “Ooooookay, I’m just going to just go ahead and untie you,” Sam sighed.  “I don’t suppose I can get any assurances that you’re not going to attack me as soon as I do it?”

            “No promises, pal.”  Blake made his eyes hard.  “What exactly are you planning to do here?”

            “Honestly?  Get some sleep!”

            “Like hell!”  Of course it was the asshole driver.  “We got work to do, dammit!  I gotta put that bag back together.  Then, we need to figure out where…”

            “Dammit, Dean, there’s nothing we can do right now!” Bobby yelled.  “We don’t even know where he is!”

            Dean’s green eyes moved to Blake.  “We just happen to have someone here who can help us with that.”

            Blake smiled sweetly.  Then he twisted around to display his hands and cheerfully gave Dean the finger.

            Dean rolled his eyes.  “Ain’t you cute, Cowboy Bill?”

            Blake returned his attention to Sam.  “Let me loose,” he said, “and I won’t punch you.”

            Sam cocked an eyebrow.  “How about you don’t punch any of us?  That too much to ask?”

            “Probably.”  Blake’s eyes fell on Bobby, who was coming over with a set of handcuffs with a long chain between them.  His stomach sank.  “Really?!  You’re gonna chain me up like a dog now?  This is such bullshit!  Just let me go!”

            “Sorry, cowboy,” Bobby apologized.  “But we can’t take a chance you’ll take off on us during the night.”

            “So what if I do?” Blake challenged.  “Why won’t you just let me go?  What the hell are you gonna do to me, huh?”

            “Calm down,” Sam soothed.  “We’re not gonna do anything to you.”

            “Yet!” Dean called.

            Sam shot Dean a look.  “We’re not going to do anything to you,” he repeated.  “But you’re the only link we have to our friend.  And that means we can’t afford to let you run off.  Sorry.”

            “Why am I being treated like a criminal?” Blake complained.  “I didn’t do a damned thing to any of you, and y’all are tying me up in cars and handcuffing me in sleezy motel rooms and God knows what else that fucker over there has in mind!  Yeah, I’m talking to you, asshole!” Blake yelled as Dean cocked an eyebrow at him.  “I didn’t ask for any of this shit!  You want someone to blame, talk to your angel buddy!”

            “I’d love to,” Dean growled.  “Trust me, trading my angel for a cowboy was absolutely not an upgrade!”

            “I’m not exactly having a good time here either, pal!  Believe me, being here was not my first choice of how I wanted to spent the night!”

            Dean gave him a wicked smile.  “Yeah, well, if you don’t help us get Cass back, it’s gonna get a whole hell of a lot worse!”

            “Fuck you!”

            “Bend over!”

            “Enough, Dean!” Bobby yelled.

            “Dean, seriously, knock it off?” Sam sighed.  He sat next to Blake, and started untying him.  “Sorry about my brother.  We’re all exhausted and upset, but that’s no excuse.”

            Blake grunted when the blood began to flow into his hands again, flexing out the pins and needles.  The instant the knots were loose enough, he jerked his hands free and frowned at the cuts the ropes had dug into his wrists.  His eyes returned to Bobby, who had opened the set of handcuffs and was reaching for Blake’s arm.  And then he bolted for the door.

            “Did anyone not see that coming?!” Dean asked.  He’d tackled Blake to the floor before he’d gotten more than a few steps.

            Blake fought frantically, but all three men were on him again.  “Get off me!  Let me outta here!”

            “You can’t beat all three of us,” Bobby pointed out calmly.  “Now come on!  Stop fighting, you’ll just get hurt!”

            Unfortunately, Blake couldn’t argue with that.  He reluctantly let himself be dragged back to the bed.  Dean gave Blake a hard shove that sent him sprawling back on the bed, earning himself a glare.  But at least Bobby was gentle enough when he cuffed one of Blake’s wrists to the bed.  The cuff was snug enough on his wrist that Blake couldn’t get out of it, but loose enough that it didn’t pinch him.  Bobby carefully checked the cut on Blake's hand.  Then he examined Blake’s wrists, frowning at the marks.  “The cut on your hand is pretty much scabbed over now, but you got some pretty bad rope burns here, cowboy,” he announced.  His voice was surprisingly gentle.  “Sammy, grab my pack, would you?”  Sam handed him the pack and Bobby produced a first aid kit.  He quickly cleaned Blake’s wrists and applied ointment.  “You might bruise a bit,” he noted, “but there’s nothing deep enough I think we need to dress it.  I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but maybe don’t struggle so much, alright?”

            Blake didn’t answer.  He sat sullenly, letting the older man tend to his wrists.

            Bobby peered into his face.  He reached into the kit again and produced a couple of instant ice packs.  “Here,” he said, handing one to Blake.  “This is for that eye, and the other one’s for Dean’s lip.  You two need to work a bit on your communication skills.”

            Blake held the ice pack to his throbbing eye and exchanged a pointed look with Dean, who was holding his own ice pack to his cut, swollen lip.  Then he looked back at Bobby and nodded.  “Appreciate it.”

            Bobby smiled.  “You hungry?  Thirsty?”

            Blake hesitated, considering the question, and then nodded.  “I was trying to have dinner before the shit hit the fan.  Never did get to have it.”

            Bobby dug in his bag once more, rummaged around, and came up with a sandwich and a bottle of orange soda.  “Peanut butter and jelly,” he announced.  “All I got right now.  We ate before we went on that hunt, so it’s extra.  I’ll get you some real food in the morning.”

            Blake eyed him.  Then he took the offerings.  “Thank you.”

            Bobby clapped him on one shoulder and moved away.  Blake ate.  The sandwich was a bit squashed, but still surprisingly good with just the right amount of peanut butter and grape jelly.  He washed it down with the orange soda and felt better.  But every time he moved, the cuff would tug on his wrist or the chain would rattle.  It was enough to drive a person insane.  Blake hoped he wouldn’t be left like this for long.  He had every intention of hightailing it out of here the first chance he got.

            Meanwhile, Dean had come closer and was staring at Blake’s waist.  “‘Save a horse ride a cowboy?’  Seriously?”

            Blake twisted his wrist unhappily in the cuff.  “It was an anniversary present.  First year married.”

            “Oh, that’s right, you’re a newlywed!” Sam called pleasantly.  “What’s her name?”

            “ _His_ name is none of your damned business!”  Somehow, the three didn’t appear to have recognized him.  That was rare since ‘The Voice’ became popular, but still a stroke of luck.  Blake had every intention of keeping it that way.  Adam had his hands full with one of these nuts.  He certainly didn’t need four.

            Dean’s eyebrow raised.  “Touchy much?”

            “About my husband?  Damned right I am!”

            “We’re not going to hurt him, or you,” Sam sighed.  “I’m sorry about all this, but if we just had a way to be sure you wouldn’t run away…?”

            “I’ll ask you again.  What’s the problem if I do?  Castiel’s a fucking angel, so what the hell are you worrying about?!  If you need help contacting him, try Dial-A Prayer!”

            “Funny.”  Dean’s face was devoid of humor.

            Blake didn’t care.  He tugged on the cuff.  “You’re being a bunch of assholes!  I told you, I have no idea about any of this shit you guys do, ok?  My husband found your angel buddy hurt and brought him home…”

            Dean sucked in his breath.  “Hurt?  What do you mean, hurt?  What’s wrong with my angel?!”

            Blake eyed him.  “He was burned, kind of beat up.  Still threw me around no problem, and healed himself right up.  Ended up without a scratch on him.  Even fixed the scorch marks on his stupid trench coat!”

            Dean’s shoulders sagged in visible relief.  Suddenly, Blake had a flash of insight.  Dean was a piece of work, but apparently, he cared a great deal about the angel.  Maybe it was time for a bit of a peace offering?  “Hey, last I saw him, he was just fine,” Blake assured him.  “The guy was throwing me around like I was nothing, tossing sofas out of his way…  He ain’t the one I’m worried about, ok?  What’s he going to do to A-  To my husband?” he quickly corrected.

            “Nothing,” Dean grumbled.  “I just wish I had some way to contact him!”

            “Well, I never thought angels would use cell phones, but he did try to call you,” Blake told him.  “Said your number was out of service.”

            “Yeah, I’d say it is,” Sam sighed.  Then he brightened.  “You know, that might help a bit, if you understood.  We all know you’ve got a cell phone right there in the breast pocket of your jacket.  Why don’t you give your husband a call, let him know you’re alright?”

            Blake went pale.  “You knew?”

            “We ain’t idjits, cowboy,” Bobby growled.  “Of course we knew!  We also knew it wouldn’t do you a bit of good, so we let you have it.”

            “Figured it might help settle you down, if you thought you had a chance,” Dean offered.  “At least, I did.”

            “Yeah, I think we all thought that,” Sam agreed.  He indicated Blake’s phone.  “Go ahead.  Give him a call.”

            Blake eyed the three and cautiously pulled out his phone.  He quickly dialed.  Then he frowned and looked again at the phone.  “I don’t understand.  I got good signal, why isn’t the call going through?”

            “Probably because you don’t have a carrier plan,” Sam explained.  He drew his own phone and handed it over.  “It’s not a trick.  Go ahead, call your husband.”

            Blake dialed.  This time the call went through, but a strange woman’s voice answered.  He apologized for the wrong number, dialed again, and this time got yelled at by the same woman, demanding to know if Blake knew what time it was.  Blake hung up and dialed Carson Daly.  Another stranger answered.  He tried Gwen Steffani.  Another stranger.  It was the same story when Blake tried his agent, his producer, and even his mother.  Not a single number seemed to work.

            Sam was still sitting there, on the other bed facing Blake, his hands folded and dangling between his knees.  “Convinced?” he said softly.

            “I don’t understand,” Blake said.  “What is this, another damned magic spell?”

            “It’s not a magic spell, it’s reality,” Sam explained.  “You see, if Cass had ended up somewhere else in our reality, he would have just called.  But he didn’t, so we knew he was, well, elsewhere.  And if he sent you through, that means you come from that same reality.  You see, there are, um, other worlds, other realms, parallel to our own.  Some of the monsters we fight, like the efreet?  They come from those other realms.  But we’ve also come to learn that there are parallel Earths as well!  They’re our world, only different.  For instance, we were sent to a world where magic didn’t exist, and Dean and I were actors in a TV show.”

            “And Sam was Polish,” Dean announced.  “Maybe he’s from there?  Hey Cowboy Bill, you ever hear of a show called ‘Supernatural?’”

            “Can’t say I have?”

            “Well, that’s actually a relief,” Sam said.  “It means that you’re not from the no-magic world, and that means Cass has a chance to get back!”

            “Oh, there’s magic, alright,” Blake grumbled.  “Your boy was casting a spell to try to get back here when…”

            “When what?”  Dean was suddenly very interested.

            Blake reconsidered his words.  “That’s how he sent me here,” he told Dean.  “With a spell, and that stupid sachet.  Now, let me see if I understand what it is you’re telling me here, Sam.  You’re saying that this is a parallel Earth, and the reason I can’t reach anyone I know is, what, they don’t exist?”

            “Oh, they may very well exist,” Sam corrected, taking back his phone.  “It’s just that they’ll be different.  For example, you may exist here in our world, but you might be, say, a truck driver instead of a cowboy.”

            “Ok, I gotta know,” Dean declared.  “Are you actually a cowboy?”

            “I work on a ranch with cattle, if that’s what you mean,” Blake offered.  Dean didn’t need to know he owned it.

            Dean’s face broke into a wide grin.  “Awesome!”

            “Anyway, now you see the problem,” Sam continued.  “Cass is still back in your world, and we need to get him back.  A-and I imagine that you would like to get back through to your husband, right?”

            “Damned right I would!”

            “Ok, then you need to work with us!” Sam declared.  “You need to stop fighting and tell us everything you know!”

            “Yeah, and soon!” Dean added.

            “I’m happy to tell you everything I know,” Blake announced.  “It will take exactly one second, because this is what I know – nothing!  Until Cass showed up, I didn’t know magic was real or angels existed…  I mean, I believed in angels, but I didn’t expect my husband to show up with one at my house, and I certainly didn’t expect one to be like him!”

            “Yeah, angels are kind of dicks,” Dean agreed.  “Trust me, we were surprised, too.  Cass sure as hell isn’t Michael Landon, but there are worse.  Lots worse.”

            For some reason, the three went quiet for a moment.  Blake did not consider that to be a good sign.

            “Ok, bottom line, you are the only connection we have to your world,” Dean announced after a moment.  “So if you would like to see your husband again, you need to help us get my angel back!  Got it?”

            Blake didn’t miss the way Dean had referred to Cass as “my angel” more than once.  The elder Winchester brother seemed oddly fond of the angel.  Blake wasn’t sure what to make of that, but decided it might be wise not to ask.  “Got it,” he said aloud.  He shook his cuffed wrist.   “How about letting me go?”

            “How about no?”  Dean smiled sweetly.  “Prove to me I can trust you, Cowboy Bill!  Until then, I’m keeping you on a leash.  Now good night!”  And with that, he threw himself backwards onto the bed behind Blake.  “Oh, and no spooning, I’m not that into you.  And if you snore, I’m gonna punch you.  Sleep tight!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun says Dean needs to stop being such a douche. Said he knew the boys wouldn't be stupid enough to miss Blake's phone.


	4. Reluctant Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters and Bobby make some discoveries about Cowboy Bill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diegetic songs:  
> "There's a Tear In My Beer" by Hank Williams Sr. and Hank Williams Jr.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRPSFtkunsI&list=RDLRPSFtkunsI
> 
> "Cowboy Bill" by Garth Brooks  
> I could not find a video of this anywhere and all I have is a shitty a cappella version of it.
> 
> "The Gambler" by Kenny Rogers  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tw5LaEzEcJw
> 
> Got asked why I put pictures in this. Because it's fun, that's why!

            Cowboy Bill was kneeling next to the bed when Dean woke.  Bill had taken apart a cheap pen from the nightstand and was using it to try to pick the lock on the cuff on his wrist.  “Ain’t gonna work,” Dean told him.  “The plastic’s too soft, it’s just bending.”

            Bill startled.  Then the blue eyes glowered at him.  He tugged on the cuff.  “Let me go!”

            “You’re not going anywhere, cowboy.”  Dean patted him on the shoulder.  “I’m first for the shower, then you can get yourself cleaned up.  Sammy and Bobby can fight for their turn.”  He looked around, seeing Sammy stirring in the next bed.  Next to his brother, Bobby’s snores were still filling the room.  How Sammy managed to get any sleep like that was a mystery.  It was also precisely why Dean had elected to sleep next to Bill.  “Sammy, keep an eye on Cowboy Bill, would you?  He’s still got ideas about running.”

            Leaving Sammy sleepily rubbing his eyes and Cowboy Bill staring dejectedly at the cuffs, Dean hit the shower.  He felt much better afterwards.  By now, Sammy was up and already on his laptop.  Cowboy Bill was sitting on the bed with his back against the wall and the remote for the TV in his hand, channel surfing.  Bobby was nowhere to be seen.

            “He made a Biggerson’s run,” Sammy explained without turning around.  “And he’s stopping by a couple of stores to get our friend here some clothes.”  Sammy finally turned around, facing Bill.  “You know, you never did tell us your name.  Is there something else we can call you besides Cowboy Bill?”

            “Cowboy Bill’s fine,” Bill grumbled.  “And exactly how long do you think you can keep me here, that you need to get me clothes?”

            “That’s up to you, Billy,” Dean announced.  “You’ve been kicking up a hell of a fuss, buddy, but we both want the same thing - put everyone back where they belong!  You stick around and help us out with that, and you can go canoodle happily with your husband the rest of your life.  Until then?”  He slapped Bill’s arm.  “Looks like you’re stuck with us!”

            Bill sighed.  “Well, at least you have decent taste in music, I suppose.  Classic rock and Garth Brooks.”

            Dean and Sammy exchanged a look.  “Who’s Garth Brooks?” Dean asked.

            The blue eyes got very wide.  “‘Cowboy Bill’ was his song,” he explained.  “I guess I just assumed…?”

            Sammy cocked an eyebrow.  “I’m fairly certain Dean was just being an idiot.”

            “Seems like a good assumption most of the time.”

            “Nice,” Dean grumbled.  “So, what, this is a country western singer?  Got a tear in his beer and all that?”

            Bill brightened.  _“There’s tear in my beer ‘cause I’m cryin’ for ya dear!”_ he sang.

            “Holy shit, he’s a singing cowboy!” Dean breathed.  “And he’s not half bad!”

            Bill shrugged, not meeting Dean’s eyes.  “I’ve slung a tune or two a few times,” he said evasively.

            “Really?”  Dean tilted his head, considering Bill.  “Alright, sing that one, not the tear in the beer, the other one.  ‘Cowboy Bill.’”

            “Not really in the mood right now, Dean,” Bill said softly.  His eyes were flickering around the room anxiously.  What was that about?

            Meanwhile, Sammy had been typing away.  “What was the singer’s name?  Garth Brooks, B-R-O-O-K-S?”

            “That’s the guy?”

            “I can’t find anything about him,” Sammy declared.  “It must be something different between our worlds.”

            “Hardly the only thing weird about this place,” Bill grumbled.  “I ain’t never heard of a place called ‘Biggerson’s’ before, but y’all were talking about it like it’s a chain restaurant.”

            “It is,” Sammy confirmed.  “There’s about a million of ‘em, all exactly the same.  Cass actually used that to hide from the other angels once, and it worked for a while.  But they don’t exist in your world?”

            “Not any kind of big chain, no.”  Bill was scowling at his cuff again.  “What difference does it make?”

            “That’s actually potentially significant,” Sammy offered.  “Biggerson’s runs are kind of a cultural staple in this reality, and Bill’s never heard of them.”

            “Well, it’s a start,” Dean said.  “We find a reality with a Biggerson’s, we know it’s not Bill’s.”  He turned back to Bill.  “Bill, we got nothing better to do until Bobby gets back.  Come on, sing us a song, cowboy!  What’s it gonna hurt?”

            Bill seemed to consider this.  “I’ll sing whatever you want if you let me out of these cuffs?”

            Dean smiled.  “Not a chance.”

            “Oh, come on, Dean!” Sammy sighed.  “Let him go!  We’re both here to watch him, and we can’t keep him cuffed or tied up all the time!”

            “Oh, I beg to differ!”  Dean narrowed his eyes at Bill, who scowled at him.

            Sammy’s bitch face was back.  “Dean?  Stop being a jerk.”

            “Shut up, bitch!”  Dean grimaced.  “Fine.  He runs, I’m kicking your ass, Sammy!”

            “That sounds fair.”  Sammy immediately went back to his laptop, leaving Dean alone with Bill.  Naturally.

            Bill helpfully held out his wrist, and Dean quickly unlocked the cuffs.  “Thank you,” Bill said.

            “You’re welcome.  Try anything and I’ll hog tie you.”  Dean threw himself onto the other bed and leaned against the wall, mirroring Bill.  “Alright, let’s hear it.  Sing, cowboy!”

            Bill began to sing.  _“He told a good story, and all us kids listened, ‘bout his life on the border and the way it was then…”_

            Bill’s voice was amazing, rich and honey smooth.  Dean was willing to bet it was as good as or better than anything on the radio.  It immediately drew Dean in.  Even Sammy stopped what he was doing to listen as Bill sang about the old man and the stories he’d told the children.  Bobby came in near the end, but Bill never faltered.  Dean glanced over to him and saw Bobby’s eyes go wide.  He shut the door almost reverently and carefully put his packages down, as though afraid to make a sound and break the spell.

            When Bill finished, Bobby cleared his throat.  “You know any Kenny Rogers?”

            Bill grinned.  _“On a warm summer’s evening, on a train bound for nowhere, I met up with the gambler, we were both too tired to sleep...”_

            It was, Dean knew, Bobby’s favorite song.  The old veteran’s grizzled face broke into a happy smile, and Dean’s heart melted a little.  At that moment, Dean might have forgiven Bill anything, just for the way Bobby smiled when Bill sang “The Gambler.”  When it was over, Bobby’s eyes were shining.  “Balls!  What a voice you got on you!”

            “That’s amazing, Bill!” Sammy agreed.  “So you know country music?  That could be helpful.”

            “How?” Bill wanted to know.

            “Well, anything we can get to distinguish between the worlds is a big help,” Sammy explained.  “We have one thing we know is from your world, and that’s you.  And now we need to find a way to link our two worlds.  See, if you create a gateway between worlds, that gateway can open anywhere.  So, w-we need to find something unique and specifically from your world that you’re attuned to, Bill.  Something you can link up with to make sure the gateway opens back in your world, instead of, say, that world with no magic.”

            Bill cocked an eyebrow.  “And you think it’s country music?  This whole thing is pretty damned out there, Sammy, but that’s going a bit far even for you guys!”

            “Well, it’s a start!” Sammy defended.

            Bobby, seeming embarrassed a bit, was handing out the food.  “Never heard that first song you were singing,” he announced.  “But you obviously know Kenny Rogers is The Gambler!”

            “Yeah, he was in a few movies,” Bill recalled.  He bit into a cheeseburger.

            Bobby blinked.  “He did no such thing!  He’s a singer, and a damned good one!  Why the hell would he need to be in a movie?  He’s a singer, not an actor!”

            For some reason, Bill smiled.  “Why, indeed?”

            “At any rate, we can use whatever information like this you give us to help sort the worlds,” Sammy insisted.  “For instance, we know Kenny Rogers exists in both worlds, and he sings that song, but in your world he’s also an actor?  That’s useful to know!  Then this other guy, Garth Brooks?  He’s a country star in your world?”

            “One of the best,” Bill announced.

            “In our world, if he exists, he’s obscure.”

            “Well, I know a little about country music,” Bobby said proudly.  “Bill and I can compare notes on country singers!  Kenny Rogers, Tracy Byrd, Adam Levine…”

            _“Adam Levine?”_

            That made everyone look up.  Dean took in Blake’s wide eyes and pale face.  “I take it that name is familiar in your world, too?” he asked.

            “I…  He…  Yeah, he’s a singer in my world too, but not country music.”  Bill looked a little ill.  “He exists, here?  As a country singer?  Where is he?”

            Dean frowned, glancing at Sammy.  Sammy was also frowning, forking salad into his mouth with one hand as he typed with the other.  “Well, Levine’s on tour right now,” he reported.

            Bill got up and moved to look over Sammy’s shoulder.  “Tell me about him.  Where is he?  Is he married?”

            “Um, divorced,” Sammy reported.  His face was a mask of confusion, and he glanced repeatedly back at Dean and Bobby.  “Married a Behati Prinsloo, divorced less than a year later, no kids.  He’s, um, got a reputation.  I guess he’s kind of a womanizer?”

            “I see.”

            Dean couldn’t read the expression on Bill’s face.  The big cowboy was staring at the pictures on Sammy’s screen, oblivious to everything and everyone else around him.

            Dean finished his bacon double cheeseburger, moved closer and peeked.  He’d never heard of Adam Levine before, but country music certainly wasn’t his favorite.  The screen showed a close-up shot of Levine’s face.  The country singer was wearing a cowboy hat and had dirt all over his face, as if he’d just come in from a hard day on the cattle trail.  “Pretty,” Dean noted.  “A little too pretty, to be honest.  Doesn’t look like much of a cowboy to me, even with the hat.  What’s that all over his arms in this other picture?  Tattoos?  He looks more like a gang banger than a country singer!”

            “He don’t sell records for his tattoos, ya idjit!” Bobby announced.  “He’s a hell of a singer.  He doesn’t sound much like most male country artists, and that’s kind of his selling point.  Beautiful voice!”

            “His tenor,” Bill murmured.  “He still have that falsetto?”

            “I have no idea what that is,” Bobby announced.

            “Never mind, I doubt he’d have much use for it in country music anyway.”  Pushing past a surprised Sammy, Bill took the laptop and returned to the bed.  There he started typing and clicking.

            “So, I take it you’re a fan?” Dean called.

            “Yeah, something like that.”  Bill’s eyes and most of his attention were fixed on the screen.

            Bobby cocked an eyebrow and gestured.  Dean and Sammy immediately huddled with him.  “Think it’s enough?  He seems pretty attached to this guy, almost like he knows him.”

            “Bill is a cowboy,” Dean pointed out.  “Stands to reason he’d be a fan of country music!”

            “But he said Levine didn’t sing country in his reality,” Sammy pointed out.

            “Still seems oddly attached,” Bobby mused.  “Could he maybe connect with Adam Levine in his own world?”

            “I doubt it.  He said Levine was a singer in his world, too.  So how would a cowboy know him well enough to connect to the degree we need?”  Sammy furled his brow.  “Still…”

            “Wild Bill’s definitely holding out on us,” Dean declared.  “We told him that we need him to connect to his own reality, so what’s his problem?  Why the hell won’t he tell us his name, or even his husband’s name?  It doesn’t make sense!”

            “Only because you ain’t never been married,” Bobby retorted softly.  “Bill’s afraid, and he’s got every right to be!  We kidnapped him, you were a real dick to him, Dean, and you already threatened him about a dozen times!  He’s afraid that, if you know who his husband is, you’ll hurt him, too!  So now he won’t even tell us who _he_ is!”

            “And that’s a problem,” Sammy grumbled, shooting a look at Dean.  Damn that bitch face!

            Dean made a face of his own.  “I get it, ok?  His husband in that other world would have been an easy link to Bill, and right there with Cass!  But now he won’t even tell us who he is, so it’s going to make this that much harder!  And it’s because I freaked him out and now he won’t trust us!  You think I’m happy about it right now?  Cass is out there somewhere, stranded in Bill’s weird-ass world where there isn’t even a Biggerson’s, and I can’t get him back!”

            The eyes of the other two immediately softened.  “Dean, we get it,” Sammy offered.  “We know you miss Cass!”

            “Of course I do!  Don’t you?”  Dean scowled.  “Wait, what the hell are you getting at?”

            Sammy hesitated.  “Well, Dean, um, it’s just that...”  He eyed Dean, noted the deepening of the scowl, and sighed.  “Listen, Dean.  Any time you’ve lost Cass, you’ve been, well…”

            “A complete prick?” Bobby supplied.

            Sammy nodded.  “A complete prick.”

            Dean bristled.  “Hey, screw you guys!  I mean I miss Cass, sure!  And I’m worried, but I’m not acting any different than I ever do!”

            “Dean?  There is a genuine singing cowboy sitting over there on that bed,” Sammy pointed out.  “You’ve wanted to be a singing cowboy since you were about eight years old!  Any other time, you’d be all over Bill, pestering him with questions and driving us all insane!  But instead, you’re just, well…”

            “A complete prick,” Bobby announced.

            “You know what?” Dean began.  “You can both eat me raw!  I’m a hunter, and this is a job just like any other.  Now I’m sorry Bill misses his husband, and he really should be a country singer, but this isn’t just about Cass, ok?  This other world…”

            “My turn for the shower?”

            All three of them jumped and discovered Bill standing close to them, watching them with his arms folded across his chest and a frown on his face.  Bill, apparently, could move like a cat even in cowboy boots.

            Bobby wordlessly handed him the remaining bags.  “Clean clothes for you,” he said.  “I had to stop at the Big ‘n Tall.  How tall are you, anyway?”

            “I’m 6’5.”

            Dean whistled.  “Damn, Sammy’s only 6’4!  I’m 6’1 and I feel short!”

            “Imagine how I feel?” Bobby grumbled.

            “Yeah, it’s nice to be able to look someone in the eye for a change,” Sammy commented.  “I get tired of always seeing the tops of people’s heads.”

            “Hopefully these will fit you,” Bobby said, indicating the bagged clothes.  “You’re taller than Sam, but you’re built bigger.”

            “Yeah, I gotta lay off the cheeseburgers,” Bill announced.  “Thanks.”  He turned on one booted heel and headed into the bathroom.  A moment later, the shower turned on.

            “That,” Dean announced, “was blasphemy.  No one should lay off cheeseburgers, especially not a singing cowboy!”

            Sammy had retrieved his laptop and was checking through it.  “Hey, guys, listen to this!  Bill did another search,” he announced.  “Someone called ‘Blake Shelton.’  Doesn’t look like he found anything, but I didn’t want to crack into the FBI databases in front of him.”

            “Check it out,” Bobby ordered.  “But just a quick search, in case he comes out!”

            Sammy nodded.  “Ok, found an entry on him.  Blake T. Shelton, former U. S. Army, currently works for, um, what appears to be a private security firm.  Next of kin, nothing special, married once and divorced, no kids.  Guy seems pretty ordinary.  No arrests, no outstanding warrants, not even a recent picture.  Must be pretty camera shy.”

            “So why look him up?” Dean wondered.  “Must be someone he knows.”

            “Keep the name in mind,” Bobby directed.  “It may come in handy, especially if he won’t give us the name of his husband.” 

            “You think he’s married to this Blake Shelton?” Sammy asked.  “I can’t imagine any other reason to look the guy up!”

            Bobby nodded.  “He may very well be!”  He paused.  “Hey, boys, give a listen, would you?  What’s wrong with the sound of that shower?”

            Dean listened.  “Sounds normal to me,” he reported.  “Just water falling into the tub?”

            “Precisely,” Sam groaned.  “Water falling, unbroken, into the tub, meaning it’s not hitting a human body on the way down!  Bill’s not in it!”

            Dean swore and tried the bathroom door.  Locked.  He opened it with a kick, then swore again at the sight of the opened window and missing screen.  “How the hell did someone his size fit out that window?!  Sammy, grab a rope and go around the front!”

            “I’m on it!”  Sammy bolted out the door.

            Dean heaved himself up, somehow managed to squeeze out the window and looked around.  Luckily, it had rained last night.  The tracks of Bill’s cowboy boots were clear in the mud.  Dean ran after him, and before long, caught sight of a familiar figure jogging ahead.

            Dean had closed the gap considerably before Bill looked back, spotted him, and bolted.  Dean yelled for Sammy and chased after Bill.  The son of a bitch was fast, hauling ass through an open field behind the motel, heading for the hills.  Dean poured on more speed.  He wasn’t in the sort of shape Sammy was, but by God, he did enough running while hunting that his body was built for it.  Bill, on the other hand, was apparently not a long-distance runner.  He was starting to flag, and before long, Dean was able to grab him and throw him down on the ground.

            Bill immediately started swinging for all he was worth.  Once again, he came embarrassingly close to kicking Dean’s ass before Sammy finally decided to show up and help.  And once again, the big redneck bastard very nearly threw them both off.  “No!” he howled as the brothers pounced on him again.  “Get off of me!  Leave me alone!”

            “Where the fuck are you going in such a hurry, Bill?” Dean grunted.  He was perched on Bill’s back, holding the cowboy’s hands for his brother to tie.

            “I’m going the fuck away from you!  Let me up!”

            “Bill!” Sammy yelled.  “Who’s Blake Shelton?  Is he your husband in your world?  Is that why you ran?”

            Bill immediately went still. 

            “I know we have given you zero reasons to trust us, especially now,” Sam continued.  “But we won’t hurt you, or him!  Alright?”

            Bill didn’t answer.  He seemed to withdraw, not even struggling as Sammy finished tying his hands.

            “You gotta learn to cover your tracks when you do searches, Billy Boy,” Dean growled.  “Get up!  Aw, dammit, I just got a shower and now I’m covered with mud!”

            “Yeah, I’m kind of muddy too, ya jackass!” Bill retorted, unsympathetic.  “If you hadn’t thrown me down in the mud, we’d both be a lot cleaner!”

            “Let’s just head in and get cleaned up,” Sammy sighed.

            At least this time, Bill didn’t fight.  Dean muscled the larger man back into the motel room and straight into the bathroom.  There, he turned on the shower and shoved Bill, fully clothed, into it.  He poked his head out the door.  “I’ll get him cleaned up,” he announced.  “Assuming I don’t decide to drown this asshole, we’ll be out in a few minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun thinks these guys are really dumb. When reminded they don’t typically kidnap people, said they are still dumb.
> 
> Trivia time!  
> In the series, when Bobby Singer was shown in Heaven, he is listening to "The Gambler" by Kenny Rogers on the radio.  
> Adam Levine tried his hand at being an actor in the movie "Begin Again." It was not widely considered to be a successful attempt.


	5. Monster Hunting 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake learns about demons, and that vampires do not sparkle.

            He remembered the way Adam smiled.  That first season of “The Voice,” Blake had his team doing “This Love.”  At the time, he’d been a little nervous.  He didn’t know Adam well and had no real idea of how the other coach would react to Blake and his team performing his song right in front of him.  But Adam had loved it.  He’d laughed and cheered louder than anyone else.  And right then, from that very moment, making Adam smile and laugh had become one of the biggest goals of Blake’s life.

            Even then, there had been something special between them, long before it turned into more.

            Now Adam was here, but Adam wasn’t Adam, at least not the one Blake knew.  But it didn’t matter.  The quick search Blake had done on himself, the one that had stupidly almost revealed his name, had told him nothing.  If another version of himself existed in this world, he was either a nine to fiver, or so obscure he may as well be.  But Adam?  Adam, Blake could find.

            That was, if he could ever get away from these assholes.

            After the humiliating shower, during which Dean had insisted on remaining in the bathroom while Blake’s hands were untied, Dean had allowed Blake to towel off and dress behind the curtain.  Then he’d shoved Blake back into the room, ordered the other two to cuff him back to the bed, and returned to the bathroom to finish cleaning up himself.  Blake hadn’t resisted through any of it, not even when Dean had undone the cuff from the bed, marched him outside, shoved him into the back seat of the car and cuffed him to a support under the seat.  Singer had spoken with the brothers outside the car for a bit, out of Blake’s hearing.  Then he’d climbed into a battered old pick-up and gone off on his own. 

            Now it was just Blake and the Winchester brothers, and they’d been driving for days.  Blake was given no chance to escape.  Apparently, he’d succeeded in pissing Dean off, and now the bad-tempered older brother was bound and determined to keep Blake as confined as possible.  Blake was almost always either cuffed or tied.  They stopped only long enough for one of the brothers to run inside for take-out food.  Then they then ate in the car, usually parked along the road far enough from the restaurant that Blake couldn’t yell for help.  Bathroom breaks were usually done in portapotties, at the side of the road with a trench tool, or held until they stopped at another seedy motel to sleep.  And one of the brothers, usually Dean, was always present with Blake in the bathroom now, making necessary visits an embarrassing affair.  But at least Blake had the back seat all to himself now.  He was taking advantage of that, letting his cuffed hand dangle, lying as much as his six-five frame would allow across the back seat with his eyes closed, trying to nap.

            After he’d given Blake what he apparently considered an adequate cooling-down time, Sam began to talk to him.  Realizing he would get nowhere by being hostile, Blake had switched tactics, dropping his defensiveness and letting his natural friendly personality shine through.  Sam responded at once, opening up and chatting with Blake as they drove.  And by the next day, Dean, although he remained surly and somewhat waspish, was talking to Blake, too.  Blake learned a lot about the brothers, and how they’d been raised as hunters by their father after losing their mother to a demon.  The two had been through a lot, literally gone through Hell, and had saved a lot of lives along the way.  Blake had nothing to do but listen, and the boys seemed to enjoy having someone to hear their war stories.  Some of them were obvious bullshit, of course.  Blake rolled his eyes at the story of how they’d faced leviathans who weren’t even giant sea monsters.  “They’re more like these walking toothy mouths,” Dean had explained.  “They’ll eat anything, even themselves!  We damned near lost Bobby to them.”

            “Who could eat that grizzled old goat?” Blake joked.

            But a sudden somber silence from the brothers alerted him that he’d trespassed on a wound that hadn’t yet healed.  “They shot him,” Sam explained quietly.  “Right in the head.  It was real touch and go for a while.  Closest we ever came to losing him.”

            “If we’d lost Bobby, I honestly don’t know what I would have done,” Dean declared.

            “Something stupid, I’m sure,” Sammy said, his sense of humor returning.  “Remember when you were going to go with Crowley to find the First Blade?”

            “That slimy bastard would have had me cursed with the Mark of Cain if Bobby hadn’t talked me out of trying that shit!” Dean recalled.  “I’d be a demon by now!”

            “And I’d have ganked your ass!”

            Dean scoffed.  “You’d have tried!”

            Blake raised an eyebrow.  He still wasn’t sure how much of these stories he could believe.  He’d outright scoffed when the two described how an angel named Metatron (“Make one Transformers crack and I’ll shave your head!” Dean warned) had tricked Castiel, stolen his grace, and used it to banish all the angels from heaven, burning off all of their wings.  And by the time they claimed that the two of them had been destined to serve as the human vessels for the archangel Michael and Lucifer himself, Blake was sure they were screwing with him.  But at least the outrageous stories helped pass the long, long hours spent in the car.

            Blake had finally seen the car, and it was sweet, a 1967 Chevy Impala, jet black and gleaming.  From what little he’d seen of it during the short moments he was led to or from it, there wasn’t a speck of rust.  Someone, probably Dean, took real care with it.  Blake got the impression that Dean spent a lot of time in the car.  They’d made several stops along the way, where the brothers had either left Blake restrained in a motel room or in the car while they went off doing God knew what.  Apparently, they were visiting various contacts.  Based entirely on their moods, Dean’s being cranky and Sam’s being surly, their quest was not going well.  He had no idea where the two brothers were taking him now, though.  Somewhere called “the bunker.”  And by the sound of things as they talked, they hoped to find information there.  Sam was obviously the brains of the operation, but it seemed like Dean was largely in charge.  Too bad.  For being a kidnapping bastard, Sam seemed semi-decent.

            Blake’s thoughts turned to Dean.  The way he’d talked about Cass, combined with the way both Sam and Bobby had been walking on eggshells around Dean, spoke volumes about Dean’s feelings for the angel.  That didn’t make much sense to Blake.  Blake wasn’t gay, except for Adam.  But he’d still recognized that Cass was good-looking, at least when he wasn’t burned, blistered, and bruised.  Still, the guy was an _angel!_   Dean was obviously fairly deep in the closet, which was unfortunately something Blake could understand all too well.  But he surely wasn’t crazy enough to want a relationship with an actual angel, was he?

            On second thought, maybe he was.  Because there was something else that Blake was starting to understand as the miles rolled by.  Dean obviously had feelings for Cass.  That was apparent to anyone who heard him tell stories about “his” angel.  But just as clearly, Dean himself was unaware.  Dean flirted shamelessly with anything female who looked sideways at him.  He’d gone off in private with a girl once already this trip, and had come back with his hair and clothing mussed and a shit-eating grin on his face.  Yet nothing and no one affected him like any mention of his angel.  And everyone understood but Dean.  Blake could relate.  He’d gone through the same thing with Adam, loving him for years before he was able to even entertain the idea that his feelings might be anything beyond platonic friendship.

            _Adam._   Blake had been gone now for days.  The moon, which had been full when he’d arrived, was now down to the last quarter.  Dean was apparently determined to drive clear across the country, occasionally switching off with Sam and laughing off Blake’s half-hearted offer to drive.  The car, which Dean called “Baby,” was nice and all, but what was wrong with the airport?  Granted, they might have a bit of trouble getting someone bound and screaming for help through an air terminal.  Even without that, the arsenal Blake had glimpsed in their trunk would give any FAA official pause.  So maybe driving all over the country made sense.  But the long, long drive left Blake with little more to do than worry about the man he loved.  By now, Adam would have reported Blake missing.  Or would Cass allow that?  Was Cass holding Adam prisoner, just as Dean and Sam were holding Blake?  That thought kept Blake wondering and worrying for hours.  Blake understood that the brothers were only keeping him because he was their only link back to his homeworld.  But all Cass would have that linked to this world would be himself.  Blake imagined Cass would be pretty much stuck in his world, and suspected that was the reason Dean was such a prick.  Blake represented Dean’s only chance to get his angel back.  That meant he’d be unlikely to ever let Blake go.  The pressure on Dean to save his angel must be immense.  It almost caused Blake to feel a bit of pity for him.  Almost.

            Of course, Blake couldn’t imagine a more powerful to link back to his world than Adam.  After all, there was nothing in this world or any other that Blake was more attached to.  But Adam was here, too.  Based on what he’d been able to find searching on Sam’s computer, Blake was positive that the Adam Levine here was a match for his own.  He’d even learned that Adam had been a coach on a short-lived talent show called “The Voice,” which had been cancelled after its third season.  That had been interesting to see.  Blake wasn’t sure if the show just hadn’t had the talent it had in his own world, or if something else had been missing that the formula hadn’t worked here.  But at any rate, this was definitely Adam.  Blake wondered if the version of his husband here was alright.  He didn’t have Blake to care for him in this world. 

            Of course, in his own world, Adam didn’t have Blake, either.  Just a powerful, violent angel who may or may not be holding Adam prisoner even now.  Cass hadn’t seemed much like Dean, but that was before Blake had accidentally stolen his only ticket home.  What was the angel like now?  Would Cass hurt Adam?  Trapped in a strange world, surely Cass would need Adam’s help!  He wouldn’t hurt Adam if he needed him.  Would he?

            Blake clenched his fists in frustration.  He needed Adam like he needed to breathe.  The days he’d been away had been torture.  Every idle moment, his thoughts had gone again and again to Adam.  To his smile.  To those hazel eyes.  The slim hips and slender waist that he loved to put his hands around.  To the lips he hadn’t kissed in entirely too long.  It was like torture! 

            Worse, Blake had nothing but idle moments.  If he’d ever considered monster hunting as a career option, Blake assumed he would have imagined excitement, danger, and adventure.  But so far, monster hunting consisted solely of long drives, greasy fast food, rat trap motels and cheap beer.  Last night they hadn’t found a motel and all three of them had simply slept in the car.  Blake was secretly pleased to know that Dean, sleeping in the driver’s seat, had likely had the most uncomfortable night.  But it didn’t change the fact that all three of them were tired and cramped and sore and in need of showers.  Blake was getting too good with the trench tool for comfort.  He wanted flush toilets, private showers without mystery stains, and clean, soft sheets.  Preferably with the warm body of his husband pressed against him, snug in Blake’s arms, his gentle breath in Blake’s ear as he slept.

            If he didn’t get back to Adam soon, Blake thought he might just lose his mind.

            In the front seat, the brothers were mumbling quietly to each other, their words hidden beneath the rumble of the engine.  They were up to something.  Blake had overheard them saying something about a “case,” but a case of what, Blake didn’t know and couldn’t care less.  He’d done everything they’d asked of him.  He hadn’t fought.  He’d made no attempt to run away.  He’d even made friendly conversation, almost as if they weren’t holding him prisoner.  Sam had started dropping hints to Dean that maybe it might be safe to let Blake loose, but so far, Dean had adamantly refused.  Blake resolved to wait him out.  After all, he literally had nothing better to do with his time.  Sooner or later, they’d leave him alone without tying him up, cuffing him or locking him in somehow.  And when that happened, Blake had every intention of giving them the slip.  Then he’d find Adam in this world.  Between the two of them, they’d find a way to get Blake back to his own world.  Blake was fully aware that the chances of getting the Adam of this world to even give him the time of day, much less help him, were slim to none.  But Blake intended to try anyway.  He’d had just about enough of the Winchester brothers.  So far, Adam Levine, even a strange version of him, was the only thing in this nightmare world that was familiar.  Blake desperately needed familiar right now.  And if Adam couldn’t help him, well, Blake would just have to find someone else who could.

            Blake had just nodded off and started dreaming of Adam when the car slammed to a stop in a squeal of brakes.  Blake bounced off the back of the front seat and tumbled into the footwell, cursing in unison with the brothers.

            “You should have hit the bastard!” Sam declared.

            “It would have dented my Baby,” Dean growled.  And then they were both out of the car, yelling at someone.

            Blake gingerly picked himself up and peered over the front seat.  The brothers were standing, illuminated by the headlights, talking to a bearded man in a black suit.  The man was smiling an oily smile that made Blake think of a used car salesman.  Dean and Sam were looming over the man, but he didn’t appear the least bit intimidated.  And somehow, despite the headlights shining in his face and the darkness inside of the car, Blake knew that the man had seen him.  He saw the man’s eyebrows raise, saw him gesture towards the car, saw the brothers look back.  Even Dean actually looked chagrined.  Apparently, they were being called into account for what they’d been doing with Blake.  Blake wanted to cheer.  It was nice that someone was finally taking his side of things!  But something about this man made Blake’s skin crawl.

            And then the man in the suit was coming back, opening the door, and smiling that oily smile at Blake.  “Hello, darling!” he called.  “What have we here?”

            Blake raised up his arm, displaying the cuff with the long chain that tethered him to the seat.  “Help me!  I’ve been kidnapped!”

            “Oh now, isn’t that a shame?”  The man had a strong accent.  “The moose and the squirrel are keeping you for a pet, are they?”  The eyes narrowed.  “Something off about you, though, sexy.  Don’t tell me, let me think!”  He dramatically crossed his arms over his chest, bringing up one finger to tap on his chin.  Then his eyes suddenly changed, becoming blood red orbs.

            Blake swore and climbed backwards into the seat, stopping only when he hit the end of his chain.  The creature was still smiling at him and tapping on his chin.  “Hmm, what could it be?” it said.  “You read a little strange, luv.  Give off a bit of a vibe, not a bad one, just not quite right.  Ah!”  He brightened, snapping his fingers, and his eyes returned to normal.  “You ain’t from around these parts, are ya, partner?” he drawled in a bad imitation of a southern accent.

            “Dammit, Crowley!”  It was Sam.  “Leave Bill alone.  He’s got nothing to do with anything, alright?”

            “No?”  Crowley pouted in exaggerated disappointment.  “That’s too bad!  Well, in that case, how about I take him off your hands?”

            “How about you don’t?” Dean growled.

            “Whatever you’ve got to say, let’s step away from the car and discuss it,” Sam ordered.  “Then get lost!”

            “But I was making a new friend!” Crowley protested.  He looked at Blake, pouting.  “We were just getting on, weren’t we, sexy?”

            Dean’s expression became stormy.  “It wasn’t a suggestion, Crowley.  Step away from the damned car!”

            “Oh, alright!”  Crowley extended a hand.  “Pleasure to meet you, mate!”

            Blake gingerly took the creature’s hand and shook.  Then he blinked, surprised.  “Nice to meet you too, Crowley,” he managed.

            Crowley winked at Blake and closed the door.  Then he sauntered away to talk some more with the brothers.  And a minute later, he vanished.  Blake remained as he was, still and wary, until the brothers finally returned.

            The brothers were wearing identical disgusted expressions when they climbed back into the car.  “You think he’s lying?” Sam asked.

            “Probably,” Dean growled.  “But we still gotta check it out.  If it’s really two groups meeting in the same place, we can’t pass this up.”

            “I smell a trap,” Sam announced.

            “Yeah, well, Crowley kind of has a lingering odor wherever he goes.”  Dean started up the car again.

            “Think maybe we should call for some back-up?”

            “No time.  Closest hunters are days away, and this may be a one-time opportunity to get both nests at the same time.  We can handle this, Sammy.  We go in, slice ‘em and dice ‘em, and get back to the bunker.”  The green eyes glanced in the mirror at Blake.  “Then we need to come up with a real plan.  Cass has been waiting long enough.”

            “Yeah, that’s the other thing,” Sam mused, looking back at Blake.  “Why was he so interested in Bill?”

            “Because he’s a demon, Sammy!” Dean growled.  “He could tell Bill’s not from our world.”

            “D-demon?” Blake squeaked.

            Dean snorted.  “You already met an angel, and now you just met a demon.  Crowley’s a crossroads demon, which is why he’s got red eyes.  Most of the bastards have black eyes, a few have yellow.  Crowley apparently took over after we locked Lucifer back in the Cage, and now he’s the King of Hell.”

            “He’s bad news,” Sam warned.  “Dean, I’m seriously worried.  He wouldn’t have offered to take Bill unless he actually wanted to take him.  Why?  What could he want with a cowboy from another world?”

            “Don’t know, don’t care,” Dean declared.  “Because that son of a bitch isn’t touching a hair on Cowboy Bill’s head!”

            After that, the brothers were silent.  Blake sat quietly in the back seat, trying to process what had just happened.  His hand clenched around the silver key Crowley had slipped him when they shook hands.  It was a key to the cuffs, Blake was sure of it.  But why would the King of Hell secretly pass Blake a key to his cuffs?  Why would such a creature possibly want to help him?

            Blake decided he didn’t care.  He carefully pocketed the key.  He’d wait, he planned, until the brothers were away or asleep.  Then he’d get loose and find this world’s Adam Levine.  He just had to be patient and wait for his chance.

            Unfortunately, his chance didn’t come that night.  Once more, the brothers simply pulled over and slept in their car.  As noisy as the doors were, Blake had no way to get out of the car without waking Dean and Sam.  He’d spent yet another uncomfortable night.  But then, to his surprise, his chance came with the rising sun.  Dean had been up since just before dawn and driven only a few miles after waking.  The sun peeking over the horizon found him pulling the Impala over and immediately digging into the trunk.

            Sam came around to speak with Blake.  “Listen, Bill, we have something we have to take care of here,” he announced.  “Hunter stuff, a big nest of vampires.”

            “Yeah, I heard you,” Blake sighed.  “Apparently, there’s two groups meeting together for something or another, so you got a shot at two for the price of one.  I’m neither deaf nor stupid, Sam.  You guys are going vampire hunting, right?”

            Sam smiled.  “That’s right.  We’re going to leave you back here with the car.  Keep the doors locked and the windows up and you should be safe enough.”

            “What happens if these vampires come after me?” Blake wanted to know.  “You gonna leave me with some garlic or a crucifix or something?”

            “Only thing that works is to hack off their heads,” Dean announced.  He was hefting a wicked-looking machete.  “But they won’t come out now that the sun’s up.  Just relax, Bill.  We won’t let the mean Twilights hurt you.”

            “Gee, thanks,” Blake drawled.  “But even if these bastards sparkle, they’re still monsters, right?  So this is dangerous!  What the hell am I supposed to do if you two idiots get killed, huh?”  He jerked on the cuff.  “You’ve trapped me here!  I’m a sitting duck!”

            “Bill, you’re going to be fine,” Sam stressed.  “Just stay here in the car and keep your head down.  We’ll be back shortly.”

            Blake watched the two walk away with a sense of anxiety.  His heart was pounding.  He waited until they’d come up to an old house further down the road and had snuck in through one of the basement windows.  Then he quickly unlocked the cuff on his wrist, leaving the other end attached to the base of the front seat, and got out of the car.

            Blake breathed in the free air in relief.  Then he turned, considering.  He popped open the trunk and peered inside.

            He’d gotten a glimpse of the array of weaponry the trunk contained in passing, but it didn’t do justice to what he was looking at now.  The Winchesters, it appeared, were prepared for anything short of World War III.  He shook his head.  Considering the kinds of things the brothers dealt with, he supposed he couldn’t blame them.  Well, good luck and good riddance.  Blake rooted through the mess and found, of all things, his cowboy hat.  He blinked, shook his head, and tossed it back into the trunk.  It had some sentimental value, as he’d worn it at his wedding.  Normally, Blake would have taken it with him.  But Dean could have it, since he seemed so fond of it.  At least then, the hunter would have something from Blake’s world.  Maybe he could use it to get his angel back? 

            Blake kept rooting, found his own pistol, and quickly shoved it into a pocket.  He looked up in alarm, hearing a yell from the house.  Then he glanced around, suddenly feeling very isolated.  “Only thing that works is to chop off their heads,” he muttered, digging around.  He found another machete and hefted it, testing its weight.  Alright, then.  If a vampire came after him, he’d be prepared.

            Blake turned and had just started down the road when he heard the unmistakable sound of Sam’s scream.  He was calling for his brother.  And then Dean was screaming for Sam.  Blake paused, looking back indecisively at the house.  More yelling, different voices this time.  Apparently, the brothers were in a hell of a fight.  “Stay out of it, Shelton,” he warned himself.  “You got no business here.  Just keep walking and don’t look back!”

            Great advice.  Blake turned and started walking.  Behind him, more commotion came from the house.  Then, from somewhere inside, Dean yelled again for his brother.  His normally cocky or angry voice sounded worried, almost desperate, and Blake froze.  He closed his eyes, turned his face towards heaven, and sighed.  “Son of a bitch!”

            Blake tightened his grip on the machete and ran towards the house.  Somewhere in his mind, he was screaming at himself, demanding to know what, exactly, he thought he was doing?  In truth, Blake had no idea.  The Winchesters were experienced hunters.  They’d been killing monsters since they were kids, and knew what they were doing.  Meanwhile, Blake was a country singer and a vocal coach on a television talent show.  The most dangerous thing he’d ever fought before he’d met Cass was a pissed-off buck that had charged his tree stand.  He was, he had no doubt, the last person in the world who should go running into a house full of vampires to try to rescue a pair of monster hunters who had kidnapped him.  And yet, Blake could see no other course.  Whatever the two brothers had done, they were in trouble.  And Blake was the only one who could help them.

            Blake had expected a bunch of twenty-something emo goth types with slicked-back hair and Bella Lugosi fangs.  But when he saw his first vampire, it was a woman in her 40’s dressed in casual outdoor wear.  She didn’t sparkle.  She was lying on one side of the hall, with her head on the other.  Instead of the elongated canines he’d expected, she had a mouth full of piranha teeth.  _Damned kids wouldn’t find that nearly as romantic, would they?_ he thought to himself.  The thought was immediately followed by _What the fuck am I doing here?!_

            The two brothers had really done a number on the vampires in the short time they’d been in the house.  Headless bodies were everywhere.  The walls, floor, even the ceiling were covered in blood.  Blake’s cowboy boots were sliding in it as he hurried through the house.  To his right, he heard Sam cry out.  He sounded very weak.  Blake turned, entered a large room, and there was Sam.  Apparently, the shaggy-haired hunter had fought well.  Bodies were scattered all over the room.  But three people had Sam down, one on each arm and one fastened to his throat.  All three had their mouths latched onto his throat or wrists, making obscene slurping sounds.  Sam’s green eyes were glazed as he weakly struggled.  They met Blake’s in a silent plea.

            Blake didn’t hesitate.  He swung his machete and the head came off of the vampire on Sam’s right arm.  He swung again, and the one on his left was down as well.

            Sam, it seemed, still had some fight in him.  He shoved at the vampire on his neck, sending her stumbling back.  She turned in surprise and looked at Blake.  Her lips drew back, revealing sharp, needle-like teeth, an extra set that extended over her regular teeth.  Blake yelped and swung again, and she dropped like a stone.  “Fuck me!” Blake gasped.  “Sam, you alright, buddy?”

            “Dean,” Sam groaned.

            “I’ll find him, hang on!” Blake called.

            “Sammy!”

            Blake turned to see Dean stagger in through the doorway.  A telltale bite mark decorated his neck.  “Sammy,” Dean gasped.  “You ok?”

            Before Sam could answer, a figure charged into Dean’s side.  Blake ran out and found Dean down on the floor, struggling to keep the vampire on his chest from reaching his throat.  Once again, Blake swung.  His aim was off, but his blade dug deep into the vampire’s collarbone, where it stuck.  The vampire screamed.

            “Oh, shit!”  Blake tugged on his blade.  It was stuck fast in the bone.  Meanwhile, the vampire was coming after him.  Blake dodged and turned, running back into the room.  Sam was struggling to his feet, one hand clutching his bleeding throat.  The other had his machete.  “Sam!” Blake yelled, backing towards Sam and reaching out.  “Gimme your blade, buddy!”

            To his credit, Sam immediately handed over the machete.  Blake swung at the vampire, forcing her to jump back.  Blake backed up as well, pushing the wounded hunter back.  Sam looked like he would fall over any minute.  “Dean!” Blake bellowed.  “We gotta get your brother the fuck out of here!”

            No answer from Dean, which was worrisome, especially since the vampire was stalking forward, her eyes on Blake like he was a tasty piece of meat.  Blake readied his blade.

            Then Dean was there, swinging his own blade as he charged in, and once again, a head fell to the floor.  “Come on!” Dean called.  “I’ll cover us, grab Sammy and let’s go!”

            And then Dean was once again on the floor, with yet another vampire on his back.

            Blake kicked the creature in the face with all his strength.  It yelped and flew back off of Dean, who quickly rolled over and swung his blade.  Another head hit the floor.  Dean groaned, tried to struggle to his feet.  He blinked at Blake’s offered hand.  The green eyes met Blake’s for a moment.  Then Dean took Blake’s hand and let the singer help him up.

            Blake steadied him, then returned to Sam’s side and pulled the younger man’s arm across his shoulders.  Blake glanced around, suddenly realizing that he’d just killed people, or at least monsters that were once people.  He shuddered as reaction set in.

            Sam, who was leaning heavily on him, noticed immediately.  “It’s alright,” he soothed.  “It was you or them.  You saved our lives, Bill!  Nice work!”

            Blake nodded and managed to pull it together.  He tightened his arm around Sam, supporting the younger man.  Then he eyed Dean, who was tugging on Blake’s machete, wrestling it loose from the vampire’s collar bone.  “You guys were both bitten?” Blake wanted to know.  “That mean you’re gonna grow fangs?”

            “It doesn’t work that way,” Sam corrected.  “You have to drink their blood to be turned, not the other way around.”

            “Right.”  Was Sam lying to protect himself and Dean?  How could Blake know?  Didn’t matter now.  Blake got a better hold around Sam and got him moving.  He reached for Dean, but Dean stepped back, wobbling.

            “I don’t need your help,” Dean declared.  “I’ll cover us in case any more come after us.  Just get Sammy out!”

            “Suit yourself.”  Blake nodded to Sam and headed for the door with Dean close behind.  Blake made the trip out to the Impala, where he handed his machete off to Dean.  Then he used both hands to dump a groaning, semi-conscious Sam into the back seat.  Taking the first aid kit Dean handed him, he climbed in next to Sam and quickly started dressing the wounds on Sam’s neck and wrists.  “He needs a hospital,” Blake declared.  “You gotta…  Seriously?!”

            Dean, grim-faced and pale, had grabbed Blake’s wrist, jerked it down, and was snapping the cuff back on.  “I don’t know how you got out,” he growled, “but you’re not going anywhere.”

            Blake stared at him, his hands clenching into fists.  He jerked angrily on the cuff.  “You son of a bitch!  I just saved your brother’s life!  Hell, I just saved _both_ of your lives!”

            “Yeah, thanks,” Dean snapped, slamming the door.  “Let’s get the hell out of here!  Sammy, you just relax, ok?  I’m gonna get you some help.”

            “Dammit, Dean!” Sam groaned.  “We both need help!  They fed on me, and I know damned well they were feeding on you, too!  You look almost as bad as I feel, and you’re in no shape to drive!  Just let Bill loose so he can drive us to…”

            “Sammy, shut the hell up!”  Dean half-fell into the driver’s seat, and a moment later the car tore out in a spray of gravel.  They swerved a bit before he managed to straighten the car out.  Blake couldn’t help but be a little impressed.  The older brother seemed to be keeping himself up by sheer force of will.

            Blake wordlessly finished dressing Sam’s wounds.  Then he reached up and dressed the bite that still leaked blood on Dean’s neck.  Dean flinched at first, eyeing Blake as though he might bite him himself.  Then he went back to focusing on driving, letting Blake tend to his wound.  The mark on Dean’s neck, Blake quickly realized, wasn’t a single bite, but two, one almost on top of the other.  Then, when he finished, Dean wordlessly held up his right wrist, revealing yet another bite.  Blake shook his head and dressed it as well.

            “Thanks,” Dean said quietly.  Blake didn’t respond.

            Blake sat back and waited until they were a good, safe distance from the house.  Then he drew his pistol from his pocket and pressed it against the back of Dean’s head.  “Pull over,” he announced.  “I hope you and your brother end up ok, Dean, and you get your angel back.  But here’s where I get off this ride.”

            “Bill?” Dean called.  “Don’t be stupid.  You’ll never get back without us!”

            “I’ll take my chances.  Pull over, now!”  Keeping the barrel of his pistol pressed against the back of Dean’s head as Dean pulled over, Blake tossed the key Crowley had given him to Sam and extended his cuffed wrist.

            “Crowley,” Sam groaned.  “I should have known!  Bill, listen to me.  Crowley set us up in there.  Those vamps knew we were coming and were waiting for us!  And if he gave you this key, it means he wants to get you away from us!  You’re the one he wants!”  He shook his head, looking disgusted.  “You know, now that I think about it, it should have been obvious he was after you, Bill.  I thought he did that stupid cowboy thing because of your accent, but somehow, he already knew you were a cowboy!  I don’t know how, but he knew you were with us, and that you’re not from this world.  He set this whole thing up, just to get to you!  You can’t trust that bastard!  He’s a crossroads demon, the King of Hell!”

            “So, what, he’s your world’s version of Satan?  Fuck him!  Just let me go, I’m leaving!”

            “He ain’t Satan,” Dean grumbled as Sam reluctantly unlocked the cuff.  “Crowley’s worse!  Lucifer will fuck you, but Crowley sets things up to make you fuck yourself!”

            Blake didn’t even bother to try to wrap his head around that one.  “Good luck finding your angel friend,” he called as he got out of the car.  “And I hope I never see you again.  Now start driving, Dean, and get your brother to a hospital!  You both need it.”

            Two pairs of hard green eyes looked bitterly at him.  And then Dean angrily stomped the gas, and Baby peeled out in a spray of gravel.

            Blake watched as the car disappeared over the crest of a hill.  Then he left the road and started jogging.  He had a long way to go, no transportation, no money, and no real idea how he was going to get there.  But at least, now, he was free, and armed.  That would have to be enough.

            He turned and set out from the road at a brisk jog.  Naturally, he had no idea where he was going.  But first things first.  Step one was to be sure he was away from the brothers.  After that, he would…

            The man in the dark suit appeared from nowhere, literally.  Blake plowed right into him.  Crowley was far shorter than Blake, but apparently made from steel.  Blake bounced off of him and landed flat on his ass, blinking stupidly up at the shorter man.

            Crowley leaned down and grinned a wicked, self-satisfied grin at Blake.  “Hello again, sexy,” he called.  “Fancy seeing you here!  Now, come with me.”

            He grabbed Blake’s arm in an iron grip.  And then everything suddenly shifted, and Blake found himself somewhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun hates Crowley. Dean is being a major douche. It was cool that Blake got to help fight.
> 
> Trivia Time!
> 
> “The Voice” features four celebrity coaches who listen to auditions with their backs turned, judging on the voices alone. Blake Shelton, a country singer from Oklahoma, and his unlikely friendship with L.A. native Adam Levine, created so much fan interest that the pairing, christened “Shevine,” became the prime draw for the show. The two have since been on every season.
> 
> Bobby Singer died from the bullet wound to the head he sustained fighting the leviathins.


	6. The King of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake meets the King of Hell, who knows far more than he should.

            “I’m afraid we haven’t been properly introduced,” Crowley began.  “I’m Fergus Crowley, King of Hell.  Charmed!”

            Blake wasn’t paying attention.  He was moving quickly around the room where he’d suddenly been transported.   The walls were brick, but the room seemed somehow enclosed, as if he were in some sort of cave deep underground.  The sounds he could hear in the background were far too close to screams for his comfort.  “Where am I?” he called.

            “Hell, of course.”  Crowley shrugged, as if having a conversation in a room in Hell was the most natural thing in the world.  “If you’re looking for the door, it’s a bit further to your right.  But I would not advise going through it.  It’s literally Hell out there, you know.”

            Blake eyed the door.  Then he looked warily back at Crowley.  “Why did you take me here?” he asked.  “What do you want?”

            “Well, I was hoping for a bit of a polite chat, but you’re being quite rude.”  Crowley was seated in what could only be described as a throne.  There was a crystal tumbler filled with an amber liquid and a couple of glasses on a small table next to him.  Crowley picked up the tumbler, pulled the stopper, and sniffed at it.  “It’s been a few centuries since I was a human, but manners haven’t changed quite _that_ much, have they, luv?  You have not yet introduced yourself!”

            “You saying you were human once?” Blake asked.  “You’re a demon!

            “That I am,” Crowley admitted.  “But yes, I was human once.  Long time ago.  Quick version, sold my soul, ended up here, eventually became a demon.  Happens to the best of us, I’m afraid.  But now I’m King, and you’re here in my kingdom.  And you still have not yet had the common courtesy to introduce yourself!”

            “Name’s Bill,” Blake said.  He stayed where he was, keeping his eyes on Crowley.

            “Bill.  Bill, Bill, Bill.”  Crowley pinched his lips, seemed to consider, and then shook his head.  “No, I’m afraid that won’t do at all.  I just can’t make myself call you Bill.  Not when we both know that’s not really your name!”

            If Blake had been guarded before, he was doubly so now.  He didn’t respond, watching as Crowley poured some of the liquid into two glasses.  The King of Hell put the tumbler down, picked up one of the glasses, and offered it to Blake.  “Come, relax, have a drink!” he invited.

            “No thanks,” Blake called.  “Not thirsty.  And I know what happened when Persephone ate something while she was in Hell!”

            Crowley blinked in surprise.  “Not as dumb as you look, are you, mate?”

            “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

            “I’m joking, of course,” Crowley said pleasantly.  “You don’t look dumb at all.  In fact, you look positively…”  His eyes roamed over Blake, his smirk growing.  “Sexy!”

            “Not interested, pal,” Blake growled.  “I’m a married man anyway.”

            “Oh, I’m aware.  I’m also aware that my opinion of you is rather prevalent on your world, isn’t it?  In fact, in _your_ world, you’re the Sexiest Man Alive!”

            Blake froze, staring wide-eyed at Crowley.  “How…?”

            “Oh come on, now, _Blake,_ I’m not nearly as dumb as I look, either!”  He held up his glass.  “Come on over, and have a friendly drink.  It won’t condemn you to Hell, I promise.  It’s scotch, and a fine year.  Let’s have a chat, shall we?”

            Blake hesitated.  This was the being that Dean had described as being worse than Lucifer.  _“Lucifer will fuck you, but Crowley sets things up to make you fuck yourself.”_   That was what Dean had said.  But what choice did Blake have?  The weight of his gun in his pocket was comforting, but what good would bullets do in Hell against the King of Hell himself?  Crowley held all the cards here.

            Alright, then.

            Blake came closer, took the offered glass, and extended his hand.  “Blake Shelton,” he said.

            Crowley beamed as he shook Blake’s hand.  “Delighted to make your acquaintance!”

            “I’ll hold judgment on that one.  Why am I here, Crowley?”

            “A man of few words, I see.  Right down to business!  Excellent.”  Crowley produced a magazine and handed it to Blake.  Blake took it, glanced at it, and discovered he was looking down at his own face, the cover of his “Sexiest Man Alive” magazine.  Crowley indicated it.  “That’s how I know who you really are, Blake.  May I call you Blake?”

            “Long as I don’t have to call you ‘Your Majesty,’ you can call me damned near whatever you want,” Blake grumbled.  His eyes were still fixed on the magazine.  “Mind telling me how you got this?”

            “Oh, I don’t mind at all!  I believe we have a mutual acquaintance.  A certain pretty, blue-eyed angel in a trench coat?”

            “Castiel?”  Blake frowned.  “What’s an angel doing with the King of Hell?”

            “Making a deal, obviously.”  Crowley sipped his scotch.  “Thing about angels, they’re not what most people believe.  You lot, you’ve convinced yourself that angels are these sweet cherubs there to offer comfort and protect you from all the mean wicked things from my kingdom.  But the truth is, at least with me, you know exactly what you’re dealing with.  I’m a crossroads demon.  My claim to fame is sealing the deal, providing certain special services to clients in exchange for their soul.  And I’m the best!”  Crowley beamed with pride.  “None better at the art of the deal in all of Hell!  And I never break a deal.  If I make a contract with you, you’re guaranteed to get exactly what I agreed to give you.  And if I make a promise, I always keep it.  For example, I promised that drinking that scotch you keep eyeing won’t condemn you to Hell.  Now I’ll expand on that promise and promise that it won’t do anything at all, except perhaps help you relax.  It’s plain, ordinary scotch, no strings attached, on my word.  Now, I offered you that scotch, and you can drink it or not.  If you drink it, there won’t be anything more negative resulting from it than if you’d bought it on the Earth.  But if an angel offered you that?  Well, the truth is that the angels can, have, and will continue to change the terms of a deal without warning or consent.  And your precious Castiel’s certainly done it with me in the past!  So that’s the irony of it, isn’t it, Blake?  The word of a demon like myself is worth far more than that of an angel!”

            Blake didn’t reply.  He watched as Crowley drained his glass and then looked back at him.  “Do enjoy, Blake!  There’s plenty more where that came from.”

            “That’s ok,” Blake called.  He put his glass back on the table next to Crowley’s throne.  “I’m still going to pass on the scotch, thanks.  I think I want a clear head if we’re about to talk about any deals.”

            That took the smirk off of Crowley’s face.  “Suit yourself.”  Crowley picked up Blake’s glass, dumped the contents into his own, and took a drink.  He smacked his lips loudly, set the glasses back on the table, and smiled at Blake.  “Let’s make a deal, huh, Monty?”

            “I’m not selling you my soul,” Blake announced.

            “Really?  Aw, now that’s a shame!  Lucky for me, that’s not what I’m after right now.”  He indicated the magazine still in Blake’s hand.  “You’d like to know just how I got my hands on that?”

            “Thought did cross my mind?  In fact, I do believe I asked you exactly that?”

            “Well, I’m afraid it’s a bit of a long story, one that goes back to the duplicity of angels.”  Crowley sighed dramatically.  “Little Cassie came storming down here, causing all sorts of fuss, insisting that I owed him a favor and he needed a magical object to help with a spell that moose and squirrel were working on.  Something about an efreet?”  He paused, glancing at Blake.  “Where is angel baby, anyway?  No one’s seen hide nor hair of that trench coated bastard for a while now!”

            “I ain’t his keeper,” Blake retorted.

            Crowley hummed.  “At any rate, pretty boy got quite belligerent about the whole thing.  He kept insisting I owed him.  And unfortunately, he was right.  He did me a solid a while back, and he had every right to call in the favor.  So, we went to see my mum.”

            “Come again?”  Blake blinked.  “You just said you went to see your _mother?”_

            Crowley made a face.  “That ginger tart and I do not have the most ideal of relationships.  The fact she gave birth to me has kept me from outright killing her, and she’s proved useful a time or two.  But she’s quite possibly the most powerful witch alive.  She and I work with each other when it’s to mutual gain, or when I force her.”  He shrugged.  “At any rate, Cassie and I went to her, and I provided her with an item I had in my storage.  It was a hex bag, very old and powerful.”

            “I saw it.”

            “Yes, I imagine you did.”  The dark eyes betrayed nothing as Crowley looked at Blake.  “Rowena freshened up the magic on it.  Then, because it’s always nice to have a bit of leverage when one is dealing with a creature who could potentially smite you, I had her add a little extra charm to it, free of charge.  You see, poor little Cassie was taking a big risk.  He was about to step through a portal between worlds, after all, and chances were high he could get lost.  The hex bag was his ticket back.  But accidents happen, don’t they?”

            “I reckon they do,” Blake agreed.  He had his poker face on.

            “In the event that an accident did, in fact, befall our favorite feathered friend, that charm would seek out an inanimate object from whatever world he found himself in.  Something that would provide a clue as to where he was, and could subsequently be used to help locate him.”  He indicated the magazine in Blake’s hand.  “It sent me this.  And I’ll tell you the truth, cowboy.  I expected he’d get himself into some sort of trouble and I’d end up with an object from another world.  My original plan was to go to the Winchesters with it and see what I could arrange in exchange for helping them get Dean’s boyfriend back.  But imagine my surprise when my spies informed me that the Winchesters had a strange man with them, one whose description matched the man on the cover of the magazine I’d just received from whatever world that bloody fool of an angel got himself caught in!”  He chuckled.  “I know he’s trapped, Blake.  And so are you.  I know exactly how it happened, and what I don’t know, I can figure out.  If the truth be told, I likely know more about what’s happening with you than anyone else!  So there really is no benefit in lying to me or withholding information.”

            “Why am I here, Crowley?”  Blake’s voice had an edge of steel to it.  “What do you want from me?”

            “Straight to it, then.” Crowley sat back, crossed his legs, and folded his hands on his knee.  “You come from another world, Mr. Shelton.  A world full of new possibilities.  Now that I’ve taken over down here and things have largely settled down upstairs, the Earth has been remarkably calm.  When you consider how close the world came to ending more than once, well, this world has earned a bit of a break, don’t you think?”

            Blake didn’t respond.

            Crowley took another sip of his scotch.  “What I want is very simple, and it’s right in line with what you want.  Blake, I want a way to get you back home to where you belong.  I’ve read that article.  I’m aware you’ve a very attractive husband waiting for you.  I imagine he misses you terribly, especially if he’s currently saddled with a certain whiny angel!”  He made a face.  “Whatever transpired that resulted in your being here while halo boy is there?  It’s unfortunate, but quite frankly, it works out well for you.  Because now you can use that same whiny angel to get back to your handsome husband!”

            “You have my attention,” Blake told him.

            Crowley got up and extended his hand.  “May I have my magazine back, please?  I’m reasonably certain you’ve got your own copy, but around here, it’s one of a kind.  Cheers!”

            Blake reluctantly handed it back.

            Crowley folded the magazine slightly and slipped it into the inner pocket of his coat.  He motioned for Blake to rise, and then took Blake’s arm and headed out the door.  When Blake hesitated, he smiled.  “Nothing will dare hurt you while you’re with me, mate.  Just don’t run off!”

            Blake didn’t miss the implied threat.  He nodded and walked with Crowley as the demon slowly made his way down the rough stone halls.

            “The thing about this world and all the trouble it’s been through recently?  The worst of it has all originated from a single source – the brothers Winchester.  Those two released Lucifer and nearly triggered the apocalypse, did they tell you that?  Granted, that wasn’t entirely their fault.  That family has been manipulated for generations just to bring about moose and squirrel!  And by your fine feathered heavenly host, no less!  See, I told you that you can’t trust that lot!  Our Cassie actually came down here on two different occasions to drag the Winchesters out of Hell, so I suppose I can see why they’re fond of him.  But Cassie caused so much trouble on his own, didn’t he, when double-crossed me!  Now, I’m not really into the whole torture thing.  Dean was here for forty years and I never laid a hand on him.  But Cassie?”  Crowley chuckled.  “Oh, I confess, I wanted to stretch his guts over the coals that day!  But then he had to get all holier than thou, with his glowy eyes and his big old black wings popping out, and I’ll confess I buggered off, thank you very much!  Bastard’s powerful, I’ll give him that!”

            Blake remained silent.  He didn’t understand most of what Crowley had told him.  But if Dean really had spent forty years in Hell, it explained a lot about his personality.  Personally, Blake would be overjoyed to not spend so much as another minute here.  And he doubted the Winchesters had gotten the protection of the King of Hell during their time here.  All around him, Blake could hear screams, echoing just outside the walls.  Figures moved in the shadows.  He felt eyes following him.  He swallowed hard and kept walking.

            “Here’s the thing, Blake,” Crowley continued, apparently used to their surroundings.  “The past, oh, decade or so?  Has seen an unprecedented rise in serious supernatural activity.  And the Winchesters and their pet angel have been right at the heart of the worst of it!  I’m tired of it, mate, damned tired, and no pun intended.  And you?”  A finger poked at Blake’s chest.  “You represent the first real ray of hope I’ve had in entirely too long.  Because you come from a world that the Winchesters might not be in!  And that’s what I want, mate.  A world with no Winchesters!”

            Blake sucked in his breath.  “You want to go through to _my_ world?”

            “Oh, relax, mate, it won’t be that bad!” Crowley assured.  “Left to my own devices, I keep to myself and don’t cause any real trouble for anyone.  So long as I’m able to work my deals in peace, I imagine your world will continue along as it always has.  And as a bonus, you, your husband, and both of your extended families down through to second cousins will be granted immunity.  Neither I nor any demon under my control will interfere with their lives, the lives of their loved ones, or their children through the next three generations.”  Crowley noted the look Blake was giving him and chuckled.  “I mean it, mate!  As you can imagine, that will likely be a rather large number of souls that would be completely out of my reach.  I’m sacrificing a significant amount of soul collateral, simply for the chance to live in a world without those two denim-clad nightmares!”

            “Sam and Dean got you that worried?” Blake wondered aloud.  “I wonder what they’d think of this deal?”

            “To be honest, they’d quite likely say ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish’ and happily see me pass through,” Crowley declared.  “I’m afraid they’re not fans of mine.  Dean, I can sometimes reason with.  We have a bit in common, after all.  But Sam might just help me along with a swift kick in the arse, given the chance!  Ask them when you see them.”

            “That means I’ll see them again?” Blake asked cautiously.

            “Of course!”  Crowley rolled his eyes.  “I’ve no intention of keeping you prisoner like the Winchesters did, Blake.  Once again, the demon is more honorable and trustworthy than the supposed ‘good guys.’  You won’t be harmed, nor will you be kept here longer than is necessary for us to complete our business here.”

            “And what’s that involve?”

            “A chat,” Crowley announced.  “We’ll talk, see if we can reach a mutually-beneficial agreement, and then I’ll send you on your way.”  He stopped before a door and paused.  “Um, I apologize in advance for Rowena.”

            “Huh?”

            “You’ll see.”  Crowley knocked sharply on the door.  Then, without waiting for a response, Crowley pushed the door open and strolled in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun said "Hello mummy dearest!” at the end. Otherwise, just made his mad face.


	7. Momma's Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake is offered a deal to help him get back to Adam

            Rowena was a middle-aged woman with bright red hair.  She wore a too-tight dress that clung to her body to slightly embarrassing effect.  The dress plunged entirely too low.  She wore too much make-up.  Her perfume tickled the back of Blake’s throat.  And when she spoke, her voice was cloyingly sweet.  “Oooo, it’s the sexy cowboy!” she exclaimed, bustling over to drape herself over Blake.  “Those eyes!  Those legs!  Your picture did not do you justice!”

            Except for her thick Scottish accent, Rowena bore a remarkable resemblance to Peg Bundy from “Married With Children.”  But Blake never paused.  He turned on the old southern charm, dipping his head and flashing his dimples as he smiled.  “It’s a real pleasure, ma’am,” he declared, deliberately thickening his accent as he offered his arm.  “Your son told me you were a powerful witch, but he didn’t mention how lovely you are!”

            Worked like a charm.  Rowena seemed to melt.  Her eyes were full of hearts and stars as she took his arm.  She even giggled like a much younger girl.  “Oh, what a charmer you are!  I’m Rowena MacLeod.”

            Blake dipped his head towards her again.  “Blake Shelton.”

            She beamed and pulled him forward.  “Come in, come in!”

            Blake allowed himself to be led away from a bristling Crowley and drawn towards yet another wooden table.  Rowena offered him tea, which Blake accepted.  He immediately took a sip and made pleased noises.  He was delighted to note that this further irritated Crowley. 

            “You’ll have to excuse my son,” Rowena began.  “I may have dropped him on his head a time or two when he was a baby.”

            “She once tried to sell me for three pigs!” Crowley accused.  “She was the worst mother imaginable!”

            She scoffed.  “You’re still upset I didn’t ask for five?  You were lazy and a whiner.  I never would have gotten five pigs for you!  I was pushing it to ask for three.”

            “Do you hear this, Blake?” Crowley asked.  “Is it any wonder to you now that I ended up selling my soul and becoming a demon?!”

            “It was obviously a different time,” Blake managed.  “Who am I to judge?”

            Rowena batted her lashes at him.  “I’m sure, if I’d had you there, my life would have been so much easier!”

            “He’s married, mother,” Crowley called.

            Rowena’s smile faltered.  “Happily?”

            “To a man!”  Crowley pulled out a chair, thumped it noisily down, and sat, uninvited, at her table.

            “Oh,” was all Rowena said.

            “Second marriage,” Blake explained pleasantly.  “First was to a woman.”

            Her smile brightened.  “And how did you like that?”

            “Now he’s married to a man!” Crowley spat.  “What does that tell you?”

            Rowena’s smile turned into a scowl she directed at Crowley.

            Blake sipped politely at his tea.  It was surprisingly good.  “While I’d be happy to simply enjoy the company of such a lovely lady as yourself, my husband is actually the reason I’m here,” he said, giving her the dimples again.  “I’m told it was your powerful magic that brought me here in the first place.  Now, don’t you fret none, I ain’t mad about that.  I know ya didn’t intend for that to happen, it was just a little mistake on my end.”

            “See?” Rowena snipped at Crowley.  “He doesn’t hold a grudge!  Isn’t that the most pleasant change?”

            Crowley sighed dramatically.

            “Of course I don’t hold a grudge, but now I’m in a fix,” Blake explained.  “I’d be much obliged if ya could help me out.”  He made his expression wistful.  “My husband, you see, he’s bound to be worried.  And if I’m not there to care for him, well, I’m worried, too.”

            “Oh, you poor sweet lad!” Rowena cooed.  She rested her fingers on Blake’s arm and leaned forward.  “Of course I can help you!”

            Her low-cut dress, combined with the way she was leaning forward, were creating quite the view.  Normally, Blake would be careful to keep his eyes on her face.  But he did a quick assessment of Rowena and took a chance, letting his eyes drop for a moment before looking back up.  “I can’t thank you enough,” he declared.

            Rowena seemed to glow.  She shot Crowley a triumphant smirk.  Crowley looked like a man in the midst of a root canal.  “Excuse me,” she called, rising.  “I need to get a few things.”  Then she bustled off.  Her hips swayed as she went.

            “What in the literal Hell are you doing, Shelton?” Crowley spat as soon as she was out of earshot.

            “Getting my ticket out of here,” Blake retorted.  “See, I just realized something.  You may be the King of Hell, but Mommy Dearest there is the power behind the throne.  This whole thing happened because of her spell!  She’s the one who can get me back, not you.  So if there’s a deal to be made, I’m thinking it’ll be with Rowena.  Not you.”

            To Blake’s surprise, Crowley actually laughed.  “Go right ahead, mate,” he called.  “Knock yourself out!  I’ll be right here, when you come to your senses.”  And with that, he pulled out the magazine and began to read.

            Blake was staring at him when Rowena returned.  She carried a heavy, leather-bound book and beamed when Blake respectfully stood up for her, ignoring Crowley who continued to read his magazine.  “Now this,” she explained, putting the book on the table, “is the most powerful spellbook there is.”

            “Impressive.”  Blake eyed the book.  “Is that parchment?”

            “Nun’s skin, actually.”

            “Uh, what?”

            “Never you mind, luv!  Just know that I’m the only one who can read it, and getting to that point required years, a lot of effort, a number of fatalities and a bit of other troublesome nonsense.”  She waved a hand dismissively.  “Now, the spell that brought you here can be modified to take you back.  But it won’t be easy.”

            Of course not.  Blake waited, watching as she flipped pages.  He tried hard not to look too closely at the material of the pages, or the odd brownish-colored ink the spells were written in.  _Nun’s skin?  Yup, I’m in Hell alright!_

            “Ah, here we are!”  Rowena indicated the page.  “This is the spell I used to bring that magazine back here.”

            “I see,” Blake said pleasantly.  “And the spell to send me back?”

            “Well, that one is a bit more difficult,” she said carefully.  “You see, that spell was designed for only one thing, and that’s to open a door from another plane of existence, into this one, specifically so that the pretty angel could dispose of an efreet.  But you’re wanting to open a door from here to another reality, one you can pass through?”  She pursed her lips.  “That will require a few things.  The first is a connection to your world, like that.”  She indicated the magazine Crowley was reading.  “The second is a source of magical power capable of fueling the spell.  And the third is the hardest.  You see, in order to link together two realities, a gateway needs to be opened in both places at the same place at the same time.  So for you to be able to travel back to your home, someone would need to cast this spell, using the same sort of requirements, at the same time in a matching location in your world, on the night of a full moon.”

            “But that’s impossible!” Blake exclaimed.  His head was spinning.  “That would mean that not only would Adam have to get all the same shit, but he’d somehow have to do it at the same time and place I did, on a specific night?  There’s no possible way that could just happen!”

            “Oh no,” Rowena assured, touching Blake’s arm again.  “It’s difficult, but it’s not impossible.  All you need to do is communicate between worlds!  And to do that, you need to find someone close to you, that you have a strong emotional tie to.  Someone who exists in both worlds!”

            “Exists in…”  Blake’s eyes grew wide.  “Adam!  My husband, he’s here!  He’s a country singer!”

            “Which means he’s surrounded by security,” Crowley called, breaking his silence at last.  “He’s very popular, and quite the womanizer from what I’ve heard.  He’s not going to want anything to do with a crazy cowboy knocking on his door asking to use him for a spell!  And he’s got to consent to it, mate.  He can’t be forced!”  Crowley replaced the magazine in his pocket and folded his hands.  “You’ll need to find Levine, convince him to talk to you instead of having you arrested, and then get him to agree to serve as a focus in a magical spell.  I see no problems with any of that, do you?”

            Blake felt his hopes fade away.  He slumped in his chair.  “So, what the hell do I do?  If I don’t get back, you sure as hell don’t either, Crowley!”

            “Oh, I’m aware of that,” Crowley confessed.  “And that’s why I’m going to help you.  You see, the entertainment business has been a stronghold of mine for quite some time.  I don’t have Levine, but I do have his agent, his manager, and several key members of his staff!  I can get him for you.  Then you’ll just have to use your wits and those bloody fucking dimples you’ve been using on my mum, and hope he finds you just as charming as she does!  And in exchange, you agree to allow me to use your portal when you do.  You get to go home, and I get a world with no Winchesters!”

            “You mean you hope,” Rowena sniffed.  “For all you know, the Winchesters could be just as active and twice as much of a pain in the arse there as they are here!”

            “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”  Crowley smiled at Blake.  “Do we have a deal?”

            Blake thought it over, and frowned.  “You left out something,” he pointed out.  “I see what you did.  You got me focused on the second part of the equation, the communication problem and how you could help with it, while you skimmed right over the first.  Where’s this source of magical power to fuel the spell?”

            Rowena and Crowley exchanged a look.  “Clever lad!” Rowena exclaimed.  “Looks _and_ brains!  I like this one, I do!”

            “You would.  And you’re right, Shelton.  There’s two parts to this bargain, and two deals to be made.  Allow me to use your portal, and I’ll give you Levine.  In exchange for a magical artifact of sufficient power, well, for that I’ll need a bit more.”

            “Once again, my soul is not for sale,” Blake declared.

            “Unfortunate, but expected.  No, what I want is far less valuable.”  He turned to Rowena.  “If you would?”

            “Take this,” she directed, handing Blake a familiar-looking cloth bag.  “And plant it on one of those lads.  There’s a string on it, but I suppose it’s a bit too ambitious to ask you to get one of them to wear it around his neck, isn’t it, darling?”

            Blake accepted the bag, frowning.  “This is the magical object?”

            “Oh, it’s magical, but it’s not the power source,” Rowena explained.  “To open a portal into the realm of the efreets was easy, because that was a realm of magic, and part of this reality.  But another reality?  That will take more power than you’ll find in most any object.  What you really need is a magical _being._ ”

            “Which means hubby dearest on the other side has it nice and simple,” Crowley said.  “He’s literally got an angel on his shoulder!  Our Cassie can serve to power up Levine’s side of things.  About time Dean’s favorite piece of eye candy proved himself useful anyway.  That means Levine’s side is covered.  You, on the other hand, have, what, exactly?”

            “I need a magical being?”  Blake snorted.  “So, what, you’ll give me a genie in a bottle?”

            Crowley chuckled.  “He’s funny too, mum!”

            “So he is,” Rowena agreed.  She smiled at Blake.  “Oh, Blakey, luv, have you forgotten where you are?  An entire realm filled with magical beings capable of powering your spell!”

            Blake stiffened.  “Wait, you’re saying I can use a _demon_ to…?”

            “Absolutely!” Rowena exclaimed.  “All you’d need is to have someone simply order one to assist you!  Someone they obey.  Someone like…?”

            Blake grimaced and turned to regard Crowley.  The King of Hell was seated in his chair like it was a royal throne, one leg crossed, drumming his fingers on his knee and smirking.  “Is there something you’d like to ask me for, Mr. Shelton?” he called sweetly.

            Blake held up the cloth bag.  “Tell me what this is and what happens if I put this on one of those brothers, because that seems a little too tame for you to be willing to put a demon at my beck and call for!”

            “And you are correct.  That, Blake, is a hex bag.  Mother uses it as a spell focus.  As long as one of them is carrying it, we have eyes and ears on the Winchesters.  That way, I know if they’re up to anything unsavory, like, say, trying to keep me from using that portal?”

            “Just drop it into one of their pockets,” Rowena advised.

            “Preferably Dean’s, but his moose of a brother will work as well,” Crowley added.

            “So you want me to bug them,” Blake clarified.  “You want me to go back to them and plant a wire on one of them!”

            They both smiled at him.  Blake was starting to see the resemblance.  “So do we have a deal?” Crowley asked.  “I provide you with access to Levine and a demon to use to power the spell.  And in return, you give me a way to keep watch on those bastards so I know it in the almost certain event they try to pull one over on me.  Say the word, Blake, and you can be on your way home in a couple of weeks!  The only thing holding you back would be the arrival of the full moon.”

            Blake stilled.  He gently put the bag back down on the table and stood up.  “I do believe I’m going to regretfully decline,” he announced.

            All the humor went out of Crowley’s face.  “Have you forgotten exactly where you are?” he asked.  His voice was chillingly calm.  “Do you not hear what’s happening outside of my castle?  With a click of my fingers, I can send you to join them!  You are in _my_ domain!”

            “I get that.  And if you’re gonna condemn me to Hell, there ain’t a damned thing I can do to stop you,” Blake said quietly.  “But if I do go to Hell, it’ll be for the right reasons.  I’ll go because I said no, not because I made a deal with a demon and condemned myself!”

            For a moment, Crowley just stared at him.  Then he raised his hands and began a slow applause.  “Bravo,” he called.  “Bravo, indeed!  Suit yourself, mate.  I’m an immortal demon.  I’ve waited centuries for this opportunity, and I can wait centuries more for another chance.  I wonder how long you can wait?”  He stood up.  “Tonight, when you dream of the husband you’ll never see again, you remember this moment.  It was the point when you chose yourself over him!”

            Before Blake could reply, Crowley waved his hand.  Then there was a sickening feeling of vertigo, and suddenly Blake found himself standing, reeling and blinking in shock, outside of a building next to a familiar black Impala.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun thought this was very nice. Said it sounds about right. Impressed he said no to going home to help people who kidnapped him. "Very impressive!"
> 
> Trivia Time!  
> Crowley frequently calls Sam and Dean by the nicknames "Moose" and "Squirrel," comparing the two brothers to the cartoon characters Bullwinkle and Rocky. He even has them in his cell phone as "Moose" and "Not-Moose." Dean once retorted to this by referring to Crowley and Rowena as Boris and Natasha, characters from the same cartoon who constantly refer to Bullwinkle and Rocky as Moose and Squirrel.
> 
> Rowena did indeed try to sell Crowley as a child for three pigs. Crowley was furious when it was mentioned, saying that he was worth at least five.
> 
> The price for Crowley's soul? Three more inches on his willy. He claims he wanted to hit double digits.


	8. Singing Cowboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cowboy Bill returns, and Dean wants some answers! But maybe he has to give a little, first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the tags.

            Dean was getting very tired of the bitch face.  “Alright!” he yelled.  “I fucked up!  If I hadn’t cuffed Bill to the seat again, maybe we could have gotten him to trust us enough to actually help instead of constantly trying to run away.  But I sure as hell didn’t give him a gun, did I?!  I will admit to my part in this, but let’s face it.  Chances were high he was going to put that gun to my head even if I hadn’t chained him up!”

            “When are you going to learn to use your head, Dean?!” Bobby snapped.  “Bill was trying to help!  He got loose and could have run while you two were the main course for those vampires, but instead, he came back and saved your asses!  If you hadn’t tried to force him, he might have at least stayed long enough to get you two here, where we could try to sit him down and explain things.  But instead, Crowley probably snapped him up as soon as you two were out of sight!”  He sighed, adjusting the IV in Sammy’s arm.  “Fuck me, this is as much my fault as anyone else’s.  Bill showed up with the hex bag and a gun and a cut from an angel blade, and all three of us jumped to the same conclusion.  If I’d have just taken the time to talk to the poor bastard, I might have realized he was a stand-up guy!”

            “It doesn’t matter,” Sammy sighed.  He still looked awful.  His face was deathly pale as he watched Bobby starting the third bag of blood dripping into his veins.  “We talked to him while we were on the road and I figured out pretty quick that Bill was a good guy.  But yeah, the way he showed up, and refusing to tell us what happened to Cass or even what his name is?”  He shook his head.  “We had no way to know if we could trust him, not until he came charging into that house like our personal cowboy hero and saved us!”

            “He really did come through,” Dean admitted.  “We didn’t give him any reason to want to help us, but he put it on the line anyway.  All for a couple of guys who’d given him nothing but trouble since the day he showed up!  Doesn’t that sound like the story of our lives?  Old Cowboy Bill might make a half-decent hunter!”  He slouched in his chair.  “Son of a bitch!  Why the hell did he have to run off?!  You’d think, after spending a week with us, he’d figure out the sort of shit that’s out there!  Even if Crowley wasn’t after him, it’s too dangerous for him to run off on his own, but the fact is, Crowley does want him!”

            “And what the hell is that about?” Bobby wondered.

            Dean shrugged.  “I don’t know, but I gotta tell you, I’m scared to death for that damned cowboy!  Whatever Crowley wants, I can’t imagine that it’s...”

            Dean caught sight of something moving outside the living room window and froze.  “Holy…!”  Ignoring the startled looks Sammy and Bobby were giving him, he charged outside and tackled Cowboy Bill.

            “Ow!” Bill yelped, hitting the ground.  “Dammit, Dean!”

            “I got you, you son of a bitch!” Dean snarled.  “Bobby, grab the cuffs!”

            “For fuck’s sake!”  Bill managed to flip the still-weakened hunter over onto his back.  Then he straddled Dean and pinned him. 

            Dean had already forgotten all about how worried he’d been about the big cowboy a moment ago.  Now he just wanted to clock the bastard.  But Bill had him down, and try as he might, he couldn’t get loose.  “Get off of me!”

            “Knock it off, would you?  I need to talk to you.”

            “Go to Hell!” Dean yelled, straining.

            “I just came from there!  Oof!”

            The last came about as a result of Bobby plowing into Bill’s side, knocking him off of Dean.  Bill hit the ground, and didn’t get back up.  He simply lay where he was, letting Bobby pin him and Dean climb over to grab his arms.  Bill rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.  “Y’all just about done yet?” he called.  “I’m not here to fight.  I just want to talk to you!”

            Dean didn’t buy that for a minute.  But astoundingly, Bobby did.  He got off of Bill.  “Dean, let him up and go back inside.  You just finished your blood transfusion.  How about you don’t get into a fight and get it all knocked back out of you again?”

            Dean wanted to retort that Cowboy Bill couldn’t beat him if he tried.  But it had taken all day and two bags of blood before he’d started feeling like himself again.  His neck and his wrist ached where he’d been bitten.  Once again, the memory of the vampires rose.  Pinning him down, laughing as they fed on him while Sammy cried out for help...  Dean hadn’t been able to help his brother.  He hadn’t been able to help himself.  It was only the noise from Bill’s fighting that had distracted the vampires pinning him down enough for Dean to break free.  Until then, Dean had been in real trouble.  He and Sammy had come so close to dying today!  If it wasn’t for Bill…?  Ok.  Maybe it was alright that he was feeling a little weak, a bit wobbly in the knees?  And maybe it was time to give Bill a break.  Dean sighed.  “Fine, I’ll let him up,” he announced, “right after we get him cuffed!”

            “No, dammit!” Bill yelled, shoving at Dean.  “No more of that shit!  I got away from you, you stupid jackass, and here I am back!  What’s that tell you?  If you had half a brain in that thick skull of yours, it would tell you that I’m here because I damned well want to be here!  So there’s no point in tying me up anymore.  Now get the hell off of me, sit down before you fall down, and let’s talk!”

            “Let him up, Dean,” Bobby ordered.  Then he made the decision for Dean by grabbing the younger man under his arms and physically dragging him off. 

            Dean was still sputtering when Bobby offered a hand to Bill.  “Watch yourself, Cowboy Bill,” Dean warned as Bill accepted it and got up.  “You run again, and I’ll break your legs!”

            “You touch me again, and I’ll bust your head!”

            “Enough, both of you!” Bobby roared.

            “Dammit, Bobby, I don’t want to fight with him!” Bill exclaimed.  “I’m just done with him treating me like a damned criminal!”

            “Then give me a reason to trust you!” Dean countered.  “You showed up and admitted you fought with Cass, and so far you’ve told us fuck-all about what happened or who the hell you are!  And now you’ve got the King of Hell after you!  This isn’t your world, you don’t belong here, and you don’t seem to have any clue as to how valuable that makes you!”

            Bill blinked in surprise.  “Valuable?”

            “You’re from another reality,” Bobby explained patiently.  “We deal with beings from other realms all the time, angels and demons and spirits and the like.  But all of those things are still part of this universe, and still bound to its natural laws.  You’re not!  You’re something absolutely unique, and everything about you goes against the laws of this universe.  That makes you damned powerful, Bill!”

            Bill was frowning.  “I don’t understand.  I’m no different here than I am in my own universe!”

            “But you’re not in your own universe,” Bobby pointed out.  “You may just be a man, but your simply being here is breaking every law in this universe!  To put it simply, you’re a damned unicorn here!  A piece of you can be a powerful component in any spell, your blood could give a vampire an extra boost, your heart could be like steroids to a werewolf...  You’re valuable!  We’d have tried to protect you anyway, but to any being who can sense that you’re from another reality?  It’s open season!”

            “Oh,” Bill said quietly.  He looked a little dazed.

            “Yeah, ‘Oh’ is right!” Dean growled.  “Why the hell did you think we’ve been so adamant about keeping you with us?”

            “To get your angel back!”

            “Yes, we need you to get Cass back,” Dean admitted.  “But honestly, having you personally just makes it easier because, like Bobby said, you’re a unicorn!  If we really only needed you for that, all we’d need is something with specific ties back to your world to cast that spell.  Your driver’s license, for instance, or even your cell phone might have done the trick!”

            “But if we just let you go, you wouldn’t last a day,” Bobby added.  “We had to keep you with us, keep you hidden as much as we could, or it would be just a matter of time before something came after you!”

            “That’s why you’ve been doing this?” Bill asked.  “Because you knew I’d get killed if you let me go?  Why the hell didn’t you just tell me that?!”

            “Would you have believed us, Bill?”  Bobby’s voice was soft.  “But truth is that even if you did, we’re hunters.  Knowledge and information keeps us alive.  If you’d known how valuable you really are, you might have used that, used yourself as leverage with something like Crowley!”

            “I’d never do that!”

            “We know,” Bobby agreed.  “That is, we know now!”

            “Do you get we’re trying to protect you?” Dean asked.  “That all we want is to get you back to where you belong?  Holy shit, stop fighting us, Bill!  We’re the good guys, you stupid son of a bitch!”

            “You sure as hell don’t act like it!” Bill snapped.

            “Yeah, well, if I’d have showed up in place of your husband with a gun in my  hand and a cut from his weapon and wouldn’t tell you shit about it, what would you have done?!”

            “I wouldn’t have driven around for a week with you handcuffed in my damned car!”

            “Bullshit!”

            “Suck my cock, Dean!”

            “Oh, eat me, Bill!”

            “I said enough!” Bobby thundered.  “You two idjits say one more damned thing and I’ll knock both of your heads together!  Balls!  You two are the Hunter Jackass versus the Cowboy Mule!  Never thought I’d meet anyone as stubborn as Dean Winchester until I met you, Bill!”

            “Sorry,” Bill mumbled, looking down.  “It’s been a hell of a day.  It’s been a hell of a week!  But I’m done.  I’m done.”

            Something about the way Bill said that made Dean pause.  Cowboy Bill was standing with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket and his head down.  His shoulders slumped.  With a start, Dean suddenly realized that Bill was close to collapse.  Physically, Bill seemed fine.  But the blue eyes looked completely defeated.  The big man’s strength was almost gone, and it was finally starting to show.

            Bobby apparently saw it too.  “Come on inside,” he offered.  “Glad you came back, Bill.  You had me worried.  You got no idea what’s out there!  Although, I suspect you’re starting to get some idea.”

            Bill only nodded.  Then he followed Bobby into the house.

            Dean stomped in behind them, making his displeasure known with a prominent scowl.  His scowl deepened when he saw Sammy’s face light up at the sight of Bill.  “Hey!” Sammy exclaimed, smiling.  “You had me scared to death, Bill!  I thought sure Crowley would grab you as soon as you were away from us.”

            “You weren’t wrong.”  Bill’s brow furled in concern, his sky blue eyes moving over the blood bag dripping into Sammy’s arm.  “Shouldn’t you be in a hospital?”

            “It’s not the first time Bobby’s patched us up and changed our oil,” Dean growled.  He collapsed into a chair and grimaced.  “Won’t be the last.”

            “I see.”  Bill indicated the outside.  “Well, this is a salvage yard, so I suppose it’s not that much of a leap from salvaging cars to salvaging people.  Glad to know you’ve got such a nice, clean, sanitary place for lifesaving medical treatment!”

            “They’re alive, ain’t they?” Bobby grumbled

            Bill acknowledged the point with a nod.  Then he had the balls to sit in the chair right next to Dean in Bobby’s living room.  Dean was about to make a smart remark, but something in the other man’s eyes stayed his tongue.  “What’s wrong?” he asked instead.

            “I met Crowley,” Bill explained, “and he wanted to make a deal with me.”

            That was met with a collective groan.

            “Take it from me, someone who once made a deal with that bastard,” Bobby announced.  “It’s not a good idea!  He’ll give you what you want, but it always ends up costing more than it’s worth.”

            “Deals with the devil tend to end up like that, don’t they?” Bill mumbled.

            “So what did he offer you?” Dean asked.

            “Home,” Bill said simply.  “He offered me a way to get back home.”

            Dean grew still.  He’d been worried about that.  The big cowboy could so easily make a mistake, and accept a deal he couldn’t possibly understand the ramifications of.  “That so?” he said aloud.  “And what did you do?”

            “I refused.”

            “Smartest thing you could have done!” Bobby declared.  He got in his fridge and handed a cold one to Bill.

            “Where’s mine?” Dean wanted to know.

            “You’re anemic, ya idjit!  You barely made it here before you face planted on the floor!  I had to give you a pint of blood just so you could stand up again, and a second to get some color in your cheeks!  You were so white I could count every freckle from clear across the room!”

            Dean shrugged.  “Just means I’ll get drunk faster.  Gimme a beer?”

            “No.  I didn’t spend all day dumping blood into your veins for you to pickle it!”

            “All day?”  Bill raised an eyebrow.  “It’s only been about an hour or so since I left!”

            “It’s been all day, Bill,” Sammy confirmed.  “You’ve been gone for hours.  That’s Hell for you.  Time’s different there.”

            “At least it went the right way for you,” Dean declared.  “I spent four months of time here, and in Hell it was forty years!”  He clutched his hands tightly together, determined to keep them from shaking.

            “I heard something about that,” Bill mumbled.  “Wondered why you hadn’t aged.  I suppose I should have known.”  He shook his head.  “Doesn’t matter.”

            “Now Bill,” Bobby called, sliding a chair closer to Bill.  “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

            Bill took a long pull from the bottle before speaking.  “He grabbed me not even five minutes from the time I left you guys,” he related.  “Took me to Hell, introduced me to his mother.”

            Once again, a collective groan rose from the three hunters.

            “Oh, dude, Rowena!” Sammy exclaimed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I bet she loved you, Bill.”

            “Yeah, she kind of did, and I may have helped that along,” Bill admitted.  “I was mostly trying to get under Crowley’s skin.”

            “Did it work?”

            “Sort of?”  He took another drink.  “Seems like my ‘bloody fucking dimples’ really pissed him off, anyway!”

            The imitation of Crowley’s accent was spot-on, and the hunters laughed.  Then Bobby got up, fetched another bottle of beer, and handed it not to Dean, but to Bill.  Bill blinked in surprise, indicating the unfinished bottle in his hand.  “I ain’t even done with this one!”

            “After dealing with Rowena?  You’ve earned it!”

            Bill took the bottle and gave him a small smile.  “Much obliged.”

            “Aw, come on!” Dean protested.  “He gets two beers and I don’t even get one?”

            “Shut up, Dean, you’re not getting any beer.  Go ahead, Bill, you were saying?”

            Bill held the second beer and rapidly drained the first.  Then he put the empty bottle on the table and sipped the new one.  “Those two offered me a deal, a way to get back home, get back to my husband,” he explained.  “Thing is, there were a couple of catches to it.”

            “Always are,” Bobby grumbled.

            “What did those two want this time?” Sammy asked.

            “Doesn’t matter,” Bill answered.  His eyes were fixed on the bottle in his hands.  “I turned them down.”

            “Good move,” Dean declared, patting Bill’s shoulder.  “We kind of need to know what he offered, but no matter what, turning it down was a good move!”

            “Was it?”  Bill’s voice was so soft it immediately quieted the room.  “He told me something before he let me go, and it’s been playing in my head on repeat ever since.”

            “Well, what did he say?” Dean asked.  “All of it, not just what’s echoing in your head!  What are those two after to this time?”

            But Bill didn’t answer.  The silence stretched on.  Dean glanced at Bobby and Sammy, but their eyes were glued to Bill.  And all Bill did was sit and stare at his beer.  Dean frowned, was again reminded of his distinct lack of beer, and got up.

            But Bobby was getting up, too.  “I’m glad you said no,” he announced.  “And I’m glad you came back, Bill.  I got something for you.  Dean, get away from the beer and sit your ass down before I knock you down!  You just had two pints of blood and you’re not diluting it with alcohol!”

            Dean threw himself back into the chair with a scowl as Bobby headed for the attic.  “This is some bullshit,” he complained.  “Cowboy Bill pulls a gun on us and runs off for a powwow with Crowley and Rowena, and he gets rewarded with two beers and a welcome back present?  Meanwhile, all I get is…”

            “Dean?”  Sammy’s bitch face was in full force.  “Shut up.”

            Dean closed his mouth and eyed his brother.  Sammy was looking at Bill again, his eyes creased with concern.  And Bill still hadn’t moved.  He was still just sitting there, staring at his damned beer, obstinately not telling them what it was that Crowley had said.  Dean shifted impatiently.  Bill was starting to worry him again.  He hadn’t known what to make of the cowboy at first, but the way he’d handled himself today had earned Bill a lot of respect in Dean’s eyes.  Bill really did have the makings of a hunter, once he stopped trying to run away and started actually working with them.  But now he once again looked ready to collapse.  What the hell had Crowley done to the big man, that could reduce him to this?

            Bobby returned, carrying, of all things, a guitar case.  Where did he get a guitar case?  He put it on the table in front of Bill and opened it.  Dean leaned forward, expecting some sort of awesome weaponry.  But instead, the lid opened to reveal a guitar.  A guitar.  Bobby had actually bought Cowboy Bill a guitar.  “Seriously?” Dean asked.

            “Shut up.”  Bobby carefully removed the guitar from its case and handed it to Bill, who stopped staring at his beer long enough to stare at the instrument.  “You’ll have to tune it, but I got tuning pipes in the case,” Bobby offered gently.  “There’s a couple of different picks, too.  It belonged to a friend of mine, another hunter.  No longer with us.  She always said it had a great sound.  I got it when she got killed, but I don’t play.”  He indicated the guitar.  “A fine instrument like this is meant to be played, Bill.  I think she’d want you to have it.”

            Dean straightened, suddenly remembering that Bill was actually a singing cowboy.  Maybe this could be interesting after all?  And Bill was finally stirring, putting his beer on the table to accept the guitar.  Then the cowboy accepted the tuning pipes Bobby offered and began to tune the instrument.  It seemed like quite the job.  The guitar was badly out of tune.  But Bill’s fingers were apparently magic.  A few expert twists of the pegs and the cowboy was strumming a coherent run of notes and chords, as though getting a feel for the guitar.  It wasn’t a song, but it seemed that Bill felt right at home with a guitar in his hands.

            Bobby had eagerly dragged a stool over next to Bill.  His eyes were bright in anticipation.  Across the room, Sammy was leaning forward, looking expectantly at Bill.  Dean supposed he understood.  He, too, was eager to find out if Bill could play the guitar as well as he could sing.  So far, it sounded pretty promising.  A genuine singing cowboy with a guitar would do a lot to relieve some of the tension they’d all been feeling since the disaster with the efreet.  Dean wanted to hear some good old-fashioned cowboy music, complete with Bill’s trademark southern accent.  Part of him wanted to run out to Baby and grab Bill’s hat, just to complete the picture.  Eventually, he promised himself.  For now, he just wanted to enjoy the music.

            Now that the strings had been tuned, Bill let Bobby take the tuning pipes and then considered the array of picks that Bobby was offering.  He selected one, nodded his thanks to Bobby, and then set up to play, left hand on the frets, right hand ready with the pick.  But he didn’t play.  He simply sat there, seeming frozen, staring off into space.  And once again, the silence dragged on.

            Sammy cleared his throat.  “Are you able to play guitar, Bill?”

            Bill nodded slowly.

            “We’d really love to hear you play and sing for us, if you’re willing?” Bobby offered gently.  “Been a long time since I heard that guitar played.  Damned thing’s been in the attic for way too long.  It’d mean a lot if you could play it now.”

            Bill’s eyes shifted to the guitar.  He pinched his lips and swallowed.  Then he began to softly play, something Dean didn’t recognize that sounded vaguely country.  Dean glanced at Bobby.  The old veteran was listening with a smile on his face.  But he was shaking his head.  “Don’t recognize that one,” he called.  “That something from your world?”

            Bill nodded.  “It’s ‘Cowboy Bill,’” he explained.

            “Ah, the one you were singing to the boys!” Bobby recalled.  “I only came in time to catch the end of that one.  I’d love to hear it the whole way through?”

            Bill’s playing suddenly faltered and stopped.  “I…  I’m sorry.  I can’t right now.”

            Dean wanted to slap him.  “Come on, dude!” he called.  “Bobby gave you that guitar, told you it was special to him, and now you’re not gonna sing for him?”

            “Dean!”  Sammy’s voice was sharp.  But when he spoke to Bill, it softened.  “Bill, I know you’re upset.  Whatever Crowley and Rowena said to you, I can tell you without even knowing any details that you made the right choice.”

            “Did I?” Bill wondered.  “He gave me a chance to go home, and I said no.  Was that really the right choice?”

            “Yes,” Sammy insisted.  “Because whatever he asked, no matter how innocent it may have seemed?  There’s always strings attached.  No one has ever made a deal with Fergus Crowley that was to their own benefit with no negative consequences.”

            _“Dammit, he could have gotten me home!”_ Bill exploded.  His face was flushed, and the cords stood out on his neck.  “He gave me a chance to get back to my husband, and I blew it off!  I fucking said no!  My husband is waiting for me, and before today I would have told you I’d give anything to get back to him.  But when I was offered the chance, I said no!”

            “Bipolar much?” Dean grumbled.  “You just went from sad to pissy in half a second flat!”

            “Shut up, Dean,” Bobby ordered.  “Bill, we will find a way to get you home without you selling your soul, alright?  Take it from someone who’s been there and done that.  You do not want to give that bastard any hold on you!”

            “Amen to that,” Dean agreed, shuddering.  “Those hellhounds that come after you when you sell your soul are a bitch!  I still have nightmares sometimes about when they came for me.”

            Bill didn’t respond.

            “Bill?” Sammy began.  “Did he threaten your husband?”

            Bill’s eyes snapped to Sammy’s face.  Then he shrugged.

            “What’s that mean?” Dean complained.  “You know what?  If this was a musical, this would be the point where you have your dramatic, soulful song.  So sing it out, Bill.”

            “Dean!”

            “Come on, Dean!”

            “No, I’m serious!” Dean protested, glaring at Sammy and Bobby.  He turned back to Bill.  “You’re a singing cowboy,” he insisted.  “You must know a million soulful songs, right?  You obviously can’t talk to us about whatever is going through your head right now.  So sing it!”

            Bill was looking at Dean as if he were a fascinating new species, but Bobby and Sammy were both giving Dean bitch faces again.  Dean ignored them, focusing on Bill.  “Hey, Bill, listen to me, ok?” he said gently.  “I get that you went through a lot of shit today.  Even if these were vampires, I’m betting that was the first time you ever killed someone, right?”

            Bill nodded slowly, still staring at Dean

            “The first time you take a life, hell, any time you do?  It tears a piece out of your soul, makes you a little less than you were,” Dean began.  “And the first time?  That’s always the worst.  Then Crowley dragged you off, which was your own fault, by the way, but still, that didn’t help.  And from what little you’ve told us, he offered you a chance to get back.  And you turned him down!  So right now, everything is probably hitting you like a wave right in the face.  You’re still hurting from taking a life.  Your head is probably spinning from whatever bullshit Crowley tried to snow you with.  And now you’re probably feeling guilty as hell that you gave up a chance to get home!”  He nodded, seeing Bill’s eyes widen.  “Yeah, I get that.  You’re not the only one here who’s been through shit, ok?  I get that you probably want to just curl into a corner and rock.  But that won’t help you.  We, me and Sammy and Bobby?  We can help you!  And I promise you, Bill.  I promise I will find a way to get you back to your husband.”

            Bill dropped his gaze.  “You just want your angel back, and I’m the easiest way to him,” he accused quietly.

            “Yeah, I want him back, but you gotta understand something.  The three of us, me and Sammy and Bobby?  This is what we do.  We travel all over the country, and we help people.  Sometimes people get hurt, or killed.  We’ve lost a lot of friends.  One of those friends was the owner of the guitar you’re holding, ok?”

            Bill looked again at the guitar.  Then he looked up at Dean again when Dean reached over and gently squeezed his shoulder.  “We’re here to help you, Bill.  That’s what we do.  But we can’t help you unless you talk to us.  Now, normally, I’d say nut up, but you really don’t seem capable of doing that right now.  I get that.  I know how good Crowley is at screwing with your head.  And maybe you won’t be able to talk to us at all today.  Fine, talk to us tomorrow!  If that’s what you need, then I’ll back off, and we’ll be here to listen whenever you’re ready.  But right now, if you don’t let some of this out?  It’s just going to build up until you snap!  Trust me!  I know!”

            Silence.  At least Bobby and Sammy were looking at each other now, appearing vaguely surprised.  Dean gave Bill’s arm another squeeze.  “Sing,” he urged.  “Whatever’s inside you, just sing it!”

            “I…  I don’t…”  Bill shook his head.

            “I’m going to say something I rarely say,” Sammy said.  “And that’s ‘Dean’s right.’  You’re so keyed up right now that you’re ready to break in two, Bill!  Y-you gotta let out whatever’s inside of you right now, before it tears you apart!”

            “You’re a singing cowboy,” Dean reminded.  “And the way you’re holding that guitar?  I get the distinct impression that singing is your thing, isn’t it?”

            Bill’s blue eyes went back to the guitar.  Then he nodded.

            “So sing!” Dean urged.  “Sing something, anything will do.  A country song, a Christmas song, hell, sing ‘Mary Had A Little Lamb’ if you blank completely out!  But you’re standing on the edge of a cliff right now.  Don’t let yourself fall, Bill!”

            “Christmas song?”  Bill’s eyes were far away.  For a moment, he sat as he was, and Dean exchanged a worried look with Bobby and Sammy.  Bill, he knew, was on a razor’s edge.  He had to have a way to release whatever was inside of him before it tore him apart and he did something stupid.  Somehow, Dean knew he was right about Bill and music.  But if this didn’t work, Dean wasn’t sure what else he could do.

            And then Bill’s hands moved, strumming softly on the guitar.  It was definitely a different tune than he’d just been playing, but Dean didn’t recognize it, either.  It also didn’t sound particularly Christmas-y.  He shot a look at Bobby, but the older man was watching Bill, head slightly tilted and a frown on his face.

            Bill continued to play, his talented hands drawing a sad-sounding tune from the guitar that seemed to match his expression perfectly.  And then, finally, he began to sing.  _“I can’t see in this darkness.  So in need of forgiveness!  Before all of my faith dies, show me the way like a northern light.  Come find me, ‘cause I can’t find myself!  I’m looking for you on Christmas Eve.  All over the world the angels sing, but I’m feeling lost can you save me?  I’m looking for you on Christmas Eve, I’m looking for you on Christmas Eve.”_

            It hit Dean like a punch in the gut.  Bill’s blue eyes were absolutely lost.  Those eyes, his voice, and somehow even the guitar, carried the loneliness, the pain, the near despair Bill was expressing.  Dean felt something inside of him twist.  The longing, the desperate need in Bill’s song was echoing, ringing true in a way that didn’t quite make sense.  Suddenly, Dean felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

            _“Don’t know how I got where I am!  Hurting so much, I need healing.  All I have is what I can pray, send me Your mercy, I need Your grace.  I’m looking for you on Christmas Eve.  All over the world the angels sing, but I’m feeling lost can you save me?  I’m looking for you on Christmas Eve, I’m looking for you on Christmas Eve.”_

_“Come find me, ‘cause I can’t find myself!”_

            How the hell was he doing that?  Dean had expected a song like this, something full of pain and sadness that he could imagine a cowboy singing around a campfire.  But this song, how could a Christmas song do this?  Had Bill just wrote it on the spot?  It seemed to perfectly express exactly what the cowboy was feeling.  Dean caught it all, felt those emotions as if they were his own.  And it was tearing him apart.  Even more than the song, the way he sang it made Dean feel like screaming.  And suddenly, he realized that what Bill was expressing now through his music was oddly familiar.  Dean had recognized that the big cowboy was ready to break.  He’d anticipated it being bad, as it always was when someone as strong as Bill finally broke down.  But somehow, it felt as if Dean was about to break down right along with him!  _What the fuck?_

            Now Bill finished and grew still once again.  The blue eyes closed, and his head dropped, the last of his strength seemingly spent.  And suddenly his shoulders shook.

            Bobby quickly cleared his throat, took the guitar from Bill, sat it gently back in its case on the table, and took Bill’s arm.  “C’mon, buddy,” he called, his gruff voice gruffer than usual.  “Let me show you your room.”  Bobby shot Sammy a look Dean didn’t understand.  Then he jerked his head in Dean’s direction as he led Bill out of the room.

            Dean was still having trouble breathing.  Sammy was coming over now, dragging his IV pole along with him to sit close to his brother.  “Dean?” he called softly.

            “Huh?”  Dean looked up and saw a kleenex in Sammy’s hand.  He blinked.  What was that for?

            And then Sammy was wiping at his face.  What was he doing?  And why was the tissue coming away wet?  “You’re impossible,” Sammy was saying as Dean blinked again.  “You just talked someone else down from a cliff.  And you still can’t see that you’re right up there on that same cliff?!”

            “What do you mean?”  Dean snatched the tissue away and wiped at his face.  Holy shit!  Had he really just been _crying?_   Dean’s cheeks flamed.  “I don’t know what the hell came over me,” he mumbled.  “I think I’m just tired.”

            “You’re tired, alright.”  Sammy was giving him that look that Dean had seem him use on dozens of frightened people during a case, the one that meant everything would be fine now.  “We’ll get him back, Dean.”

            “Bill?  Sure we will!  He’s tough, he’ll get through this!”

            “Not Bill.  Cass.”

            And suddenly, Dean was seeing Bill again, seeing the desperate loneliness in his blue eyes.  But in his memory, those eyes were a deeper shade of blue, ocean blue instead of sky blue.  And all the feelings that Dean had been able to successfully push back while he focused on a solution came flooding in.  Was Cass lonely?  Was he hurt?  He was an angel who had rebelled, with enemies in Heaven, in Hell, on Earth, even in Purgatory!  It would be far easier to number those who did not want a shot at his angel than to estimate how many did.  And now he was trapped in a different reality.  What he’d told Bill about his unique nature and how valuable it made him was correct.  But if Bill, a human, would be a target for anything who understood what he was, then his angel...?

            Once again, Dean felt like screaming.

            _Come find me, ‘cause I can’t find myself._

            Sammy had another kleenex and was mopping at Dean’s face again.  “It’s alright, you know,” he said as Dean irritably batted his hand away.

            “What is?”

            “To admit you care about Cass.”

            “Of course I care about him!  He’s like a brother!  But that’s all there is to it, no matter what those damned fanfiction writers say.”

            Sammy gave him a level stare.  “We both know that isn’t true.”

            Dean glowered at him.  Then he got up, pushing past his brother to storm into the kitchen.

            “Dean, stay away from the beer!” Sammy warned.

            “I won’t touch the damned beer!  I want pie!  Where’s the pie?  _Bobby_!” he bellowed.  “I need some damned pie!”

            “Check the pantry!” Bobby hollered back.

            Dean went into the pantry.  Pie, pie, ah, here it was!  Dean brought it out, cut a big slice, and sat at the table to eat it.

            _Come find me, ‘cause I can’t find myself._

_I’m feeling lost, can you save me?_

            Dean closed his eyes, his hand tightening on the fork.  _I will.  I swear it._

            But how?

            Cowboy Bill, Dean believed, had the answers he needed.  But he was in no condition now to talk.  Fine.  _Rest up tonight, Billy Boy,_ he thought, shoveling more pie into his mouth.  _Tomorrow, we’re getting some answers!  And then, maybe, I can find a way to help us both._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is "Christmas Eve"  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubiN8hyPJvM
> 
> Mr. Fun started singing “There’s Always Tomorrow.” Thinks Dean is a crybaby. Argued with the author that if the author got sent to another world and he was left alone, that would be ‘so friggin’ cool.’ Earned himself the finger from the author. Thinks Dean needs to nut up, punch Crowley in the face, kick Rowena in the ass, and make them get Cass and Blake back where they belong.


	9. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake learns a bit more about the brothers and makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! Been quite under the weather.

            “John Winchester was one of the best friends I ever had,” Bobby was saying softly.  “He served his country and came home to marry the woman of his dreams and start a family.  Two beautiful children.  And he didn’t know any more about the shit we deal with than you did!  But his wife, Mary?  She came from a family of hunters.  One thing that holds true over and over for hunters is that no one ever gets out alive.  And her past came back for her one night when Sam was just a baby.  A demon came for Sam, fed him its blood, and killed her, all to alter Sam so he could be of use to it later in his life.  John ended up having Dean, at four years old, carry his baby brother out of a burning house while John tried to save his wife.  But there was no saving Mary.  John lost damned near everything in a single night.  And that changed him, as you can imagine.  He got hard.  Started learning all he could about how to fight these monsters and became the best hunter in the business.  And he raised those boys in that life.  Bill, Dean and Sam are the way they are because hunting is the only life they’ve ever known.  They were raised on the road in that damned car.  And John bounced them around from place to place, tracking down monsters and the whole time gunning for the demon who’d killed his wife.  They learned how to shoot a gun instead of how to ride a bike, how to fight instead of how to throw or catch a ball.  Those boys grew up as warriors instead of kids!  And while Sam got out of it for a bit and went to college, it’s the only life Dean’s ever known.”

            Blake was lying face-down on the bed Bobby had brought him to, facing away from the old hunter.  He had his arms wrapped around a pillow and his cheek pressed into it.  He stayed silent, listening to the older man speak.

            “Dean spent his whole childhood being told he had to look out for his younger brother,” Bobby continued.  “He was only four years old when his momma died and he carried Sam out of that house, but that didn’t matter.  John left Dean and his brother in hotel rooms for days at a time while he went on hunts.  And if John was delayed or for whatever reason they didn’t have enough money, Dean had to do whatever it took to take care of Sam, be it pick a pocket or rob a store or pull a con.  Dean Winchester has done nothing his entire life except hunt and care for his brother.  Sammy’s his whole life.  So you can imagine, it was tough for him, having Sammy grow up and go off to college.  Of course, Sam lost a lot on his own.  He even lost the woman he probably would have married to the same demon who murdered his momma.  Dean still blames himself for that, because that happened after he came back into Sam’s life.  But we know now that Sammy never had a chance.  That demon marked him, and there wasn’t anything anyone could have done to prevent what happened to him.  In the end, Dean went to Hell because he sold his soul to save his brother.  And he’s never been the same since.”

            “But here’s the thing, Bill.  Dean had a chance for a normal life.  After he lost Sam again for a while, he went to a girl he knew and her son.  Dean had a real life with those two.  But in the end, he turned his back on it because it was already too late.  His past caught up to him, you see.  Dean didn’t want to bring anyone else into this life he leads.  He gave up a girl who might have been his wife and a boy who loved him like a father because he knew that if they stayed with him, they’d be at risk.  And he’s been alone ever since.  Besides Sam and me, there’s only ever been one real stabilizing force in Dean’s life.  Cass.”  He chuckled.  “You know jack shit about Dean, Bill, but I think you still see it, don’t you?  How Dean feels about his angel?  Hell, that right there tells you something.  Ever since Cass got sent to your world, Dean’s been calling him ‘my angel.’  What’s that tell you?”

            His voice grew soft.  “Thing is, Cass always was Dean’s angel.  Always.  It’s just lately, things have been way quieter than they’ve been for a while.  So the two of them have had to actually interact beyond working together for a hunt.  They’re closer now than they’ve ever been.  Sam and I, I think we both are just kind of waiting.  Waiting for things to set in, for nature to take its course, and for that damned idjit to finally see what’s right smack dab in front of his face!”

            “But here’s the problem,” Bobby explained.  “Like I said, Dean was raised as a warrior by a man who’d been so broken by the loss of his wife that he never even considered what it was he was really doing to his sons.  Some things, John ground into those boys, like duty and honor and the need to do whatever was necessary to keep going, keep hunting, keep ridding the world of monsters.  And at the same time, there were some things John didn’t tolerate.  Weakness was probably the biggest one.  Didn’t matter that they were kids, they had to be strong, especially Dean!  He had to be a man right from the start.  And being a man meant you acted a certain way.  What you see when you look at Dean?  That’s the result of a grieving ex-marine molding the son who idolized him into John Winchester’s version of the perfect monster killing machine.  And John was absolutely determined to do it to both of his boys!  He and Sam butted heads more times than I’ll ever know, and you know who was caught in the middle, don’t you, Bill?”  He sighed.  “It was bad.  It was so bad that John actually disowned Sammy when he wanted out of the hunting business to go to college and try to have a normal life.  John actually told that boy that if he walked out, not to come back.  And of course, that only made it harder for Dean, because John kept him with him.  And now Dean had to be perfect, because the truth is, Sammy was always the favorite.  And don’t think for one minute that Dean didn’t know that!  But he never resented his brother for it.  I think you’ve seen and heard enough by now to understand just how much Dean loves his brother.  Fact is, Sam’s more than a little spoiled from always having his father and his brother taking care of him.  That’s probably why he was able to walk away the way he did.  But Dean was formed in his father’s image.  He drives his father’s car, listens to his father’s music, hell, he wore his father’s jacket for a long time before some asshole stole it!  And he never stopped taking care of his brother, either.  You saw a bit of that by now, didn’t ya, Bill?”

            Blake remained silent.

            “Now, I think it’s fairly clear that I had my issues with how John was raising those boys.  But I felt like I had no right to tell a man how to raise his own sons,” Bobby confessed.  “Plus I knew John’s history, how he was abandoned by his own daddy and the way that shaped his life.  But we come to find out, most of this happened by grand design.  The God Mob, as Dean likes to call ‘em, and the demons have been working for generations, manipulating that family on both sides.  The Campbells, Mary’s side, were hunters.  And the Winchesters were Men of Letters, basically supernatural scholars.  John’s daddy didn’t abandon him after all.  He was the only survivor of a demon that took out the whole American contingent of the Men of Letters, but he ended up getting killed anyway in the end.  Then John and Mary were manipulated right up through the point when Mary was killed, all to produce those two boys.  All to release Lucifer himself.  During the course of that, Dean sold his soul to save his brother and got sent to Hell.  And it was Castiel who got him out, acting on orders from Heaven.  Because while Sam was altered as a baby and meant to be the vessel of Lucifer, Dean was destined to play host to the archangel Michael and face him!”

            “Bullshit,” Blake mumbled into his pillow.

            Bobby laughed.  “I can see how you’d see it that way.  And you don’t have to believe me.  Just know that the God Mob sent Cass to bring Dean up out of Hell after he died specifically to facilitate the apocalypse.  And when Sam went to Hell himself to stop that, Cass went back in after him, as well.  Now, I’m not sure exactly when it was that things started to change between Dean and Cass, but I think it was around the time they met a fallen angel, and Cass chose to rebel himself.  That was the point when Cass lost his faith in what his fellow angels were doing and cast his lot in with the Winchesters.”

            “If he’s a fallen angel, doesn’t that make him a demon?” Blake asked from his pillow.

            “Nah, he’s just a fallen angel.  Demons are a whole other breed of cat.” 

            “Damned souls who got twisted in Hell, huh?  That’s what Crowley said he was,” Blake told his pillow.  “Does that mean angels are souls from Heaven?”

            “Nah, angels were created as angels.  And they’re pretty much all a bunch of assholes.”  Bobby sighed.  “Cass has always been weird, even for an angel.  He’s pretty much the only one I’ve met who’s shown human emotion, that’s for sure.  At first, he’d usually stay back and observe rather than helping, although he’d certainly jump in, especially if Dean needed him.  But as time went on, Cass started taking a more active role.  Now, he’s right there at Dean’s side.  Hell, that angel will do damned near anything for Dean anymore!  He even tried buying him beer, porn, and pie when Dean got pissed off at him once!  But when you think about it, what else has Cass got left?  He rebelled against Heaven and he’s been pretty much lost ever since.  What good is an angel who’s not serving Heaven, you know?  And maybe that’s what really drew Dean to him.  Cass is this powerful being capable of raising people out of Hell and smiting demons with a touch.  But at the same time, he’s like this lost kid that Dean can kind of take under his wing.  And now you know Dean’s history, how he took care of his brother all his life?  Maybe you understand why I don’t think Dean would feel whole unless he had someone to take care of!”

            Blake thought he understood, but he said nothing.

            “For his part, Cass calls Dean ‘The Righteous Man.’  No idea what that means, but to Cass, it’s one hell of a big deal.  Cass can be a real shithead when he wants to be, but there’s no denying how much he respects and admires Dean.  And somewhere along the way, whatever they had between them grew into something else.  And what you’ve been seeing from Dean since you showed up?  That’s the result.”

            “So why the hell doesn’t he do something about it?” Blake grumbled into the pillow.  “If Dean wants this stupid angel and the angel’s ok with it, why not go for it?”

            “Well, Bill, I don’t know your story, but at some point you had to come out to your friends and family, I’d imagine.  How easy was that?”

            Blake didn’t answer.  His mind flashed over his memories, the friends he’d had all his life who had cursed him and stormed out of his life for his crime of loving Adam.  The hate mail he and Adam still received, the threats, the disgust and vitriol that would likely follow them all their lives.  “Not so easy,” he confessed.

            “Dean was raised to be a warrior, a man who must always be strong, and never show weakness.  Can you imagine what John would have thought if he ever knew that his perfect warrior son had fallen in love with not just an angel, but a _male_ angel?  John’s gone now, but he’s still very much alive and well inside of Dean’s head.  And that’s why Dean can’t ever admit how he feels, not to others, not to Cass, certainly not to himself!  And Cass?  Well, he may be the most human of the angels.  Hell, he was actually human for a time, after that prick Metatron stole his Grace.  But like I said, he’s like a kid.  He doesn’t understand love, especially when Dean’s so damned cold and hard towards him half the time, always keeping him at arm’s length.  You’ve surely been around Dean long enough by now to see how much that boy’s hurting, not having Cass with him.  He probably misses his angel almost as much as you miss your husband!”

            “Sucks to be him.”

            “Oh, knock it off, Bill!” Bobby growled.  “You two idjits are fighting with each other when you’re both the only one who understands what the other’s going through.  Maybe, instead of constantly fighting, you could try working together?”

            “Working together?”  Blake rolled over and glowered at Bobby.  “I came back, didn’t I?  And the first thing Dean did was attack me and want to tie me up again!  To be perfectly honest, if I could have you and Sam to try to help me get back home and see the ass end of Dean going out the door for the last time?  I couldn’t be happier!”

            Bobby sighed.  “I know you two have been oil and water right from the start.  Most of that’s Dean’s own fault, as usual.  But now you understand a bit of where Dean’s coming from.  And you’ve got a unique perception, because you know what he’s going through, being alone without the one he loves.  You can understand Dean like no one else can, Bill.  All I ask is that you try!  Will you just work with him, help him help you?”

            “Help me?  Ha!”  Blake sat up and rubbed angrily at his tear-streaked face.  “None of you really give a damn about me or my husband!  All you want is your fucking angel, and keeping me around makes it easier!”

            Bobby’s face could have been carved from granite.  “Bullshit.  We’re hunters, Bill!  All we do is put our asses on the line, over and over again, to help strangers just like you!  This time, doing what we would have done anyway can help us get our friend back.  That’s bonus for sure.  But don’t you ever believe, even for one minute, that it’s the only reason!  Because those two brothers downstairs are covered with scars they got specifically from helping strangers for no reward at all!”  His voice softened.  “We’re here to help you, Bill.  Not everyone in this world is like Crowley, only out for what they can get from you.  I need you to trust us on that.  But it’s up to you.  We’re done forcing you to stay.  I shouldn’t have gone along with it in the first place, and I’ll put a stop to it now.  You want to go out on your own, all I ask is that you leave us what we need to help us get Cass back.  It’s your life to live or throw away.  But Bill?  We are the best hope you’ve got, ok?  And if you stay with us, if you give us a chance?  We’ll fight to the death to help you.  God knows we’ve done it enough times before!”

            Blake didn’t answer.

            Bobby got up and gave Blake’s shoulder a squeeze.  “Bathroom’s through the door, across the hall.  Get yourself cleaned up.  You hungry?”

            “I could eat,” Blake confessed.  “Mostly I’m just exhausted.”

            “I imagine you are.  Stay up here if you want, and I’ll bring you something.  Then we’ll all leave you alone, and you can get some rest.  Tomorrow, we need to take you to get a tattoo.”

            Blake blinked.  “Come again?”

            “You got demons interested in you, Bill,” Bobby explained.  He pulled his shirt open a bit, displaying an odd sigil on his chest.  “That’s an anti-possession ward.  Believe me, you’ll thank us.”

            “Great,” Blake groaned.  “My husband will love that.”

            “He’ll be happy to know you’re not possessed.  Go get cleaned up.”

****

            Blake fell asleep as soon as he lay back down, and slept clear through the night until morning.  He’d dreamed again of Adam last night.  Adam was singing, but he was lost, somewhere in the dark.  Blake was desperately trying to find him.  But he couldn’t see, and every time he got close to the sound of Adam’s voice, something grabbed Blake, dragged him away again.  No matter how much Blake fought, he couldn’t get to his husband.  Then he’d heard something that sounded entirely too much like a gunshot, followed by screaming.  “Go!” yelled a gravely voice.  “All of you, go!  Now!”  Then there were two more shots, followed by a sudden terrible silence.

            Blake had shot straight upright in bed.  He was covered in sweat.  The nightmare had taken a long time to fade.  He’d had nightmares featuring Adam being attacked before, especially when his Rockstar was far away for a long time.  This certainly qualified.  But that voice he’d heard?  It was the angel, Blake knew it.  But why would he hear Cass’s voice shouting like that in his dream?  It was strange, and it terrified him.  Even now, Blake’s hands were still shaking.  He’d nearly cut himself shaving.

            He leaned on both hands on the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror.  The black eye Dean had given him when they’d first met had faded.  Dean’s face was so banged up after the fight with the vampires that it was hard to tell how much of their first fight remained.  But Blake had a feeling that getting punched in the face was a way of life for Dean.  Too bad.  Dean really was a beautiful man.  In another life, he could have been a soap opera star.

            Blake looked hard into the mirror.  The blue eyes that stared back at him looked somehow haunted, lost, and drained.  Blake shuddered.  He wasn’t entirely sure why, but the more he was here, the more drained he felt.  Stress, he supposed.  He could feel it now, the strain he was under.  His heart raced for no reason.  He flinched at any sudden sound.  Every strange shadow seemed somehow menacing.  And inside, he’d never really recovered from that weird feeling of somehow being injured that he’d noticed when he’d first arrived.  Even more so than the bruises on his body, Blake felt battered.  But really, was that so surprising?  This world was terrible, full of monsters and horror he’d never imagined.  He needed to get home.  And that meant he was going to have to give a little.  What Bobby had told him last night had rung true.  If he and the brothers were going to help Blake, and they actually did seem to want to do exactly that?  Then they needed Blake to help them first.  It was time to trust the hunters.

            Blake had given careful thought to the belt buckle Adam had given him, the one he’d been wearing when he’d been taken here.  He could still remember the night his Rockstar had given it to him.  Their first wedding anniversary.  Blake had come into the house to find a series of small gifts leading up to the bedroom, where Adam waited on the bed wearing nothing but a red ribbon bow taped to his head.  The buckle had been the first gift in the series, which progressed from suggestive to raunchy the further it went.  Blake had been blushing by the time he’d reached the massive dildo with his name carved into it outside the bedroom door.  But once he’d opened the door, he’d had all but forgotten it in his haste to claim Adam.  It was only afterwards that Blake had been able to present Adam with his own gift.  It was a picture taken from an overhead plane the night before.  Blake had arranged for lights on the roofs of his Oklahoma neighbors to spell out the words “I love you Adam.”  Adam had been thrilled.  The framed picture still hung over their bed at the ranch.  He clipped the buckle onto his belt.  Then he went out.

            Blake headed downstairs, peeking around corners as he went, wary of being attacked.  But all three hunters were seated at Bobby’s table, enjoying a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and grits.  They’d been talking softly among themselves, but the conversation ceased when they spotted Blake.  Suddenly, all eyes were on him.

            “Hey, Bill,” Sam called.  “Come on in, have some breakfast?”

            Blake came over.  A plate had been set for him.  He took it, loaded it up, and returned to the table.  Sam and Bobby had returned to their breakfast, occasionally shooting glances between Blake and Dean.  And Dean simply watched Blake, his green eyes revealing nothing.

            Blake ignored him, eating the most awkward breakfast he’d ever had.  When he finished, Dean was still staring at him.  Blake eyed him a moment, then helped clear the table.  “Need a hand with dishes?” he asked Bobby.

            “I got ‘em,” Dean called, surprising him.  “Towel’s over there if you want to dry.”

            Blake picked up the towel and started drying, Dean directing him where the dishes went. 

            “You said Cass was alright when you left?” Dean finally asked.

            “Seemed just fine,” Blake replied.  “Like I said, he wasn’t the one I was worried about.”  He paused.  “I was thinking about what you and Bobby said, about how I’m a unicorn here?  What’s that make your angel, Dean?”

            “The most magical, sparkly rainbow unicorn in all the land.”  Dean scrubbed fiercely at the grits pan.  “But he’ll be fine.  He’s one of the toughest guys I know.  Cass can handle himself, and he will take care of your husband.  The problem lies in getting him back!”

            “Yeah, he needs a couple of things for that,” Blake recalled.  “A link here and a source of power.”

            Dean looked up sharply.  “That so?”

            “That’s what Rowena told me, anyway,” Blake confessed.  “She said anything he has on him from this world could serve as a link here.  And he’s an angel, so he can serve as his own source of power.  The real issue’s finding a power source on this end, and a way to communicate to them over there.”

            Dean had paused completely.  “Go on?”

            Blake looked at him.  “Dean, did you know that Cass went to Crowley and Rowena for that hex bag that brought me here?  And that he asked them to put an extra spell on it that would provide them with an object from any world he ended up trapped in to help bring him back?”

            “I knew he got the bag from that asshole, but I didn’t know about any extra spell.  And I don’t believe it for one moment.  If Cass got an enchantment to send back something to help find him in case of emergency, he would have had it sent to me!  Why the hell would my angel want it to go to them?”

            “I wondered that myself,” Blake confessed.  “Between that, and what you and Sam said about those assholes, I didn’t trust them much.  That’s a big part of why I turned ‘em down.”

            Dean rinsed off the pan and passed it over.  “And you’re regretting that?”

            “Maybe?”  Blake carefully dried the pan.  “They said in order to power the spell to open the gateway back home, I’d need a magical creature.  Said Cass would do the trick just fine on his end, and offered the use of a demon for over here.”

            “A demon?!”  Dean nearly dropped the frying pan.

            Blake nodded, putting his pan away.  “That part would have been easy, honestly, assuming the demon would behave itself.  The real problem would be communication.  There needs to be two spells cast in the same location at the time during a full moon for this to work.  So we had to have a way to communicate back and forth…”

            “…And that required finding someone close to you who exists in both worlds at the same time,” Dean finished.

            Blake stared at him.  “You knew all along!”

            “Dude, what do you think we’ve been doing all this time?” Dean exclaimed.  Then he shook his head.  “Ok, I get that we seriously have been butting heads this entire time.  And that’s probably 90% my fault.  But dammit, Bill, the reason I’ve been such a dick to you is because I thought you hurt Cass!”

            “I get that,” Blake sighed.  “I showed up with a gun and a cut on my hand.  I might have thought the same damned thing in your shoes.  So yeah, I get why you were threatening me.”

            “And then you kept trying to run away,” Dean continued.  “You wouldn’t have survived a day, dude.  Look, I’m an asshole.  I know that, you know that, everybody knows that!  But I’ve been fighting monsters all my life to help people just like you.  Give me a chance, huh?  Let’s try working together for a change and see if maybe we can make something good happen!”

            “I’d like that, Dean,” Blake said.  “You guys got a plan?”

            “We’ve had a plan, and we’ve been at work pretty much from the day you showed up,” Dean explained as he carefully rinsed the pan.  “Bobby’s been researching these spells we’ll need.  That’s why he left!  And that whole time we were driving with you?  We were visiting some witches we knew that owed us favors.  We have been trying from the start to find a way to get everyone back where they belong, Bill.  But you’ve got a couple of things wrong, or, more likely, Crowley and Rowena left some details out.”

            “This,” Blake declared, “is not an expression of shock or surprise.”  He accepted the pan from Dean and scowled at it.  “You guys figure a way around this?  Sounds like we need to compare notes!”

            “That we do,” Dean agreed.  “But let’s finish here and get Sam and Bobby in on this, ok?  They can explain it a lot better than I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun said he’s shocked that two people as trustworthy at Crowley and Rowena would not tell the whole story, or would leave out any important details. Did not appear to be especially shocked.
> 
> Trivia Time!  
> Dean Winchester's leather jacket really did get stolen, along with several of Cass's trench coats, when someone stole multiple costume pieces that were in transit. Since then, Dean no longer wore a leather jacket on the show.
> 
> Jensen Ackles, who plays Dean, got his big break playing Eric Brady on the soap opera "Days Of Our Lives."


	10. Spell Components

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunters have a long-overdue talk with their mysterious guest

            “From what we’ve learned, breaking into another reality is way harder than opening a gateway into another realm, like the one the efreet came from,” Sammy explained.  “There are barriers between realities that simply aren’t meant to be breeched.  So it takes a lot of juice to do it.”

            They were back at Bobby’s table, cups of coffee in hand, so that Sammy could explain things to Bill.  Dean had made a point of sitting next to Bill, and hadn’t missed the cowboy’s slight nod of approval.  More importantly, he’d seen some of the tension drain from the shoulders of the other two hunters.  Actually working together was far superior to constantly fighting with Bill.  As much as he hated to admit it, Sammy may have been right.  Bill had opened up more while they were doing dishes than he had the entire time they’d been with him.  Too bad he had to run off and get nabbed by Crowley for that to happen.  Well, Dean vowed, he’d make it up to him.  First chance he got, he was taking Bill to a bar.  Nothing like bonding over beer to foster a working relationship.

            “The first thing that you need is a link to the other world,” Sammy continued.  “Like we said, anything from your world will do, so long as it links directly back to your world.”

            “What about something that links directly back to my husband?”

            Dean shot him a look.  “That would be even better, if we could link not just to a world, but to a specific person!  You got something you can volunteer for that, Bill?”

            “Sure do!”  Bill unclipped his belt buckle and placed it on the table.  “My first anniversary gift.  He had it custom made, and melted down the wedding rings from my first marriages to finish it!  It definitely links me back to my husband!  Think that’ll work?”

            “Damn right it will!”  Bobby was nodding in approval.

            “And Cass can use, what, that trench coat of his?”

            “No,” Sammy sighed.  “No, he can’t, and that’s part of the problem.  Cass’s vessel, his body?  It’s been completely destroyed more than once.  The clothes he’s wearing got blown to bits right along with him, and when he was resurrected?  Well, bottom line is that everything he wears comes from Heaven, not Earth!  And for this spell to work, we need both ends of our portal to connect.  That means he’s got to link up to Earth.”

            Bill snorted.  “So much for not lying to me!  Right there, Crowley was lying through his teeth!”

            “I actually doubt that,” Bobby confessed.  “Crowley probably talked about getting you back home, right?  And as long as you could link back to your own world and had some help from the other side?  You could potentially open a one-way gateway, just like the one that brought you here, and go home!  But did he say anything about a two-way gateway?  At any point in that conversation, did Crowley say anything at all about getting Cass back here?”

            One look at Bill’s face told Dean he hadn’t.  “So, what, Cass doesn’t have a way to link back here?”

            “Without that hex bag?  Maybe not,” Bobby sighed.  “It’s one of the things we need to talk to him about.  But that’s getting ahead.  Keep going, Sammy.”

            “Well, the next component is a source of magical power.”

            “That’s what Crowley was offering the demon for,” Bill explained.

            “That would work, too,” Bobby admitted.  “But the demon would have to be willing.  We can’t just whack one over the head and force it!”

            “Too bad,” Dean grumbled.  “Still, we gotta have something at the bunker, right?  The Men of Letters collected all sorts of shit!”

            “We can try,” Sammy agreed.  “But like I said, I doubt it, Dean.  There’s a lot of magical artifacts, but something with that much juice…?”

            “We don’t know everything we’ve got stored!” Dean insisted, scowling.  “I’m not ready to give up!”

            “No one’s giving up, Dean,” Bobby said softly, glancing meaningfully at Bill.  Dean quieted.

            “Crowley said Cass can serve to power this spell on the other side,” Bill said.  “So we have the link to my home, and they have the power source, but those components are missing on the opposite sides!  You guys don’t know any other angels that might help?”

            Dean snorted.  “Let’s just say that Cass will never be nominated for Heaven’s Prom King and leave it at that.  Far as I know, the hosts of Heaven aren’t actively trying to kill him anymore, which is a nice change.  But they’re not likely to jump at the chance to help him, either.  And the three of us have been on their ‘naughty’ list for too long to expect them to forgive and forget any time soon.” 

            “Is there anyone y’all haven’t pissed off?” Bill asked, incredulous.

            Dean shook his head.  “Not that I can think of offhand.  Let’s talk about Plan B for this power source,” he continued, ignoring Bill’s raised eyebrow.  He dug into his pocket, produced a plastic bag filled with bits, and put it on the table.  “I still have the components of that hex bag Cass used.  If we can’t find a magical artifact powerful enough to open this gate, I say we make one!”

            “Dean, we talked about this,” Sam sighed.  “It’s not the components we’re lacking, it’s the covering!  That hex bag was covered by a cloth wet with angel’s tears!  That’s incredibly rare, and the biggest reason it was so powerful.”

            “And it’s not like we can just go have Cass cut onions right now, is it?” Dean grumbled.

            “It doesn’t sound like any angels will be too willing to cry for you,” Bill noted.

            “If anything, the God Mob will cry tears of joy once those douche bags find out Cass is out of the picture,” Dean grumbled.  He repocketed the bag.  “It’s another thing we’ll check into once we get back to the bunker.  But that’s what I was talking about when I said Crowley left a few things out.”

            “Oh, I can hardly contain my surprise,” Bill grumbled.  “I know that the spells have to be cast in the same place at the same time, and it’s gotta be a full moon.  So we need a way to communicate, and that requires someone who exists in both worlds.”

            “Someone close,” Sam stressed.  “And not just someone that’s close to you, but someone physically close.  The spell, it, um, doesn’t actually let you communicate.  W-what it actually does is, it transfers souls.  The soul of someone in one world is switched with the soul of their counterpart in the other.  It’s only for a short period of time, minutes at best.  A-and it’s incredibly draining, Bill!  The subject of the spell will need a day or so to recuperate.  Plus it can only be cast once on either side, so it’s one shot per person.  And once again, that subject has to be willing.”

            “And that’s the other problem,” Bill grumbled.  “And the other part of what Crowley offered me.  He could get me in to see my husband in this world.  Then I’d just have to try to convince him!”

            Dean brightened.  “Your husband?  You mean the guy with Cass?  Dude, that’s perfect!  But you don’t need Crowley for that!  Just give us his name and we’ll find him, and…”

            “It won’t be that easy!” Bill exclaimed.  “Yeah, he exists on this world, but getting to him is going to be way harder than you think!  Even if we get to him and get that damned moron to hold still and listen long enough for us to tell him what we need?  If the little shit is anything like he is in my world, we’ll still have our work cut out for us!  I swear, I married the most stubborn, ornery, cocky little bastard in this realm or any other!”

            “Oh come on, dude, it can’t be that bad!” Dean exclaimed.  “Can’t you just, I dunno, turn him over your knee or something?”

            Sammy groaned.  “Holy shit, Dean!”

            “I,” Bill declared, “would love to turn him over my knee.  Believe me, I’ve been tempted many times!  But the moment I touched him, I guarantee I’d get my ass kicked!”

            Bobby cocked an eyebrow.  “He’s big enough to take you on, Bill?”

            “No,” Bill corrected.  “But I’m betting his damned bodyguards are!”

            “Bodyguards?”  Dean eyed him.  “Ok, what, you married to some kind of politician or something in your world?”

            “Worse,” Bill declared.  “I married a rock star!”

            Silence.

            “I,” Sam declared, “did not see that coming.”

            “Cowboy and a rock star?” Bobby mused.  “Interesting combination!”

            “Ok, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I gotta ask,” Dean began.  “You’re good-looking and all, Bill, but how the hell does a cowboy land a rock star?  I mean, what, he visited your ranch, and you swept him off his feet on your big old horse and rode off into the sunset?”  He brightened.  “Wait!  He _owns_ your ranch, doesn’t he?”

            “I own the ranch,” Bill confessed.  “My name’s not Bill.  It’s Blake Shelton, and in my world, I’m a country star.”

            Silence.  All three were staring at Bill with wide eyes and gaping jaws.  “Y-you’re a country star?” Dean managed.  “Like, an actual, famous country star?  Do you have any hit songs, awards?”

            He couldn’t believe it when the cowboy nodded.  “Yeah.  I had twenty-four number ones, seventeen of which were consecutive.  Broke a record for most consecutive number ones on the Country Airplay’s chart.  As for awards, I got five ACMA awards, two People’s Choice awards, seven Grammy nominations, eight CMA awards, two American Music awards, twenty-four ASCAP awards...  You get the picture.  And my husband, he’s a rock star, like I said, with his own credits to his name,” he continued, oblivious to the fact that he’d just completely blown Dean’s mind.  “He’s even got a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame!”

            Apparently, Dean wasn’t alone.  Sammy’s eyes were huge and Bobby looked like he’d just suffered a minor heart attack.  “Th-that’s pretty impressive, Blake,” Bobby managed.  “How’d you meet your husband?”

            “We met because we were both celebrity coaches on a vocal talent show called ‘The Voice.’”

            “I remember that,” Bobby mused.  Apparently, he’d recovered from his shock far quicker than Dean, who was still reeling.  “The coaches would let contestants audition while they sat in these revolving chairs with their backs turned.  The idea was that they’d be judged based on their voice alone.  Wasn’t bad, but at the time there were a bunch of talent shows on TV.  Nothing about it really stood out, so it didn’t last long.”

            “It went a little differently in my world,” Bill, or Blake, or whatever his name was, explained.  “Show’s been on for years now.  We just finished our thirteenth season.”

            Dean realized something.  “Wait, you’re a famous country singer, and you’re married to a rock star?  Holy shit, you guys must be rolling in money!”

            “We’re comfortable,” Blake sighed.  “And that’s the problem.  Because Adam’s the country star in this world, and according to Crowley, getting to him is going to be tough!  And now that I said no to Crowley, it’s going to be worse!  Because Crowley apparently has his hooks in a lot of the people around him.”

            “Ouch.  Ok, yeah, that would be…”  Dean trailed off, finally spotting Bobby’s face.  “Bobby?”

            Bobby’s mouth had hit the table.  His eyes bulged.  “Balls!” he exclaimed.  “You’re married to Adam _Levine_ in your world, aren’t you, Blake?!  That’s why you acted the way you did when I mentioned him before!”

            Blake nodded, looking miserable.  “Now you see the problem?”

            “You’re damned right I do!” Bobby groaned.  “You got a better chance at getting a private audience with the President of the United States than you do with Adam Levine!”

            “That bad, huh?”

            “Worse!  The guy’s got a great voice, puts on a fantastic show from what I understand, and the women swoon over the way he looks.  But unfortunately, his good qualities pretty much end there!”

            Sammy frowned.  “What do you mean?”

            “I mean, I can understand why someone would need to make a deal with Crowley to get any sort of job working around Adam Levine!” Bobby declared.  “That guy goes through people like a pox!  I heard he’s the biggest prima donna you ever met!  Guy had a band once, Maroon, they were called, and even though he was topping the country charts, they flat-out fired him because they couldn’t stand working with him anymore!  He’s got a long string of ex-lovers, some of whom have made threats against him.  And let’s not even talk about the way he treated his ex-wife when she caught him cheating and left him!  Poor girl was a model, and by the time Levine got done with her reputation, well, she’s pretty much ruined in the business now.  So Blake’s right about the bodyguards!  We’re going to have one hell of a time getting to Levine!”

            Dean looked sympathetically at Blake.  “Damn, brother!  Blake, you’re a decent guy, dude!  You’re tall, you’re reasonably good-looking for a guy...  What the hell are you doing with a piece of shit like that?”

            Blake literally snarled at him, and for a moment, Dean thought he was about to get punched.  But then the cowboy seemed to wilt.  “He’s not like that in my world,” Blake defended.  “He’s a control freak for sure, but he’s not like… that.  He doesn’t treat people the way he does here, for starters!  And while he can absolutely be a bit of a prima donna when he wants to be, it’s not hard to knock him off of his pedestal.  Hell, I’ve been doing it since the day we met!”  Blake rubbed at his face.  “Fuck me!  This guy doesn’t sound anything like my Adam!  Even if I wasn’t sure Crowley would use all his people he’s got around Levine to block any attempt I made to reach him, he’s gotta do this willingly!  What the hell would I say to a guy like that to convince him to help me?”

            “We’ll work on that,” Dean assured.  “Meanwhile, we look at Plan B.  Because there’s got to be someone else we can use!”

            Blake mused, thinking.  “There’s a few friends, family.  But if we have a real short time limit to work with, it’ll be a crap shoot as to if any of them are near Adam when we do that spell.”

            “Well, Blake, we got two choices, then,” Bobby said gently.  “Either we figure out a way to reach this world’s version of your husband, or we try to find someone else and hope they can reach Cass.”

            “Actually, as long as whoever you pick can get to Cass or your husband when they get back, it won’t matter too much what their other self does,” Sam pointed out.  “It will mean only one-way communication, which is far from ideal.  We’ll be able to tell Cass and your husband what we need them to know, but if they need anything from us, we won’t know about it!”

            Blake scowled.  “Let’s keep all our options open, ok?”

            “Absolutely!” Dean agreed.  “Which leads us to just one more detail.  Blake, what did Crowley and Rowena want from you in exchange for helping you?”

            Blake had been quite animated to this point.  But now it was as if the life was drained out of him.  “I didn’t want to tell you, because I wasn’t sure I’d made the right decision,” he confessed.  “I guess I wanted to have the option in reserve, just in case I needed it.  Because until now, that was the only real hope I’d been offered of getting home since I got here!”

            “Blake, we’ve been working on getting you home and my angel back since you showed up,” Dean reminded patiently.

            “But he didn’t know that, did he?” Sammy pointed out.  He turned to Blake.  “Blake, it’s ok.  Tell us what Crowley wanted.”

            “He wanted two things,” he explained.  “For the demon, he wanted me to plant one of those hex bags on one of you two, so he knew if y’all were trying anything to stop him.  And for access to Adam, he wanted to be able to use the portal we opened.”

            “Oh, now, isn’t that sweet?” Sam growled.  “He wants to spread his evil in a whole new world!”

            “A world without you two in it, specifically,” Blake corrected.

            “Well now!” Dean called.  “That is sweet!”

            “And it can’t happen,” Bobby declared.  “We can’t let that bastard get to a world where you two idjits aren’t there to stop him!”

            “Yeah, that’s the funny part,” Blake said, looking thoughtful.  “I mean, how does he _know_ y’all don’t exist in my world?”

            No one had an answer to that.  And it bothered Dean.  There was more going on with Crowley than he was seeing, especially if he’d let Blake come back and tell them his plans.  What was he missing?

            “One more thing I’d like to know,” Dean said.  “Cass.  Blake, why, exactly, did my angel send you here, instead of coming himself?”

            Blake cringed.  “He didn’t,” he confessed weakly.  “Adam found him hurt, brought him home so we could try to help him.  He wasn’t conscious.  So I carried him inside, and I found his hex bag when I was looking through his pockets for an ID.  Then he ended up waking up, and it was all a huge misunderstanding, and then we were all freaked out and started fighting with each other…”  Blake shook his head.  “Honestly, I could not even start to tell you exactly what happened that night.  It was complete and total chaos and confusion.  And I’d give a lot to know what happened in that house after I was gone!  But I ended up with the hex bag in my pocket when Cass cast his spell to come home.  And that’s what brought me here.  Cass never meant to send me, it was a complete accident!”  Blake seemed to shrink.  “I’m sorry, y’all.  When I picked up that stupid hex bag, I didn’t know what it was!  That’s why I dropped it in my pocket.  And I forgot all about it until Adam saw it glowing, and...  Gah, dammit!  I never meant for this to happen, but it’s my own damned fault I’m here and your angel’s trapped with Adam!  And I’m telling you, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it right!”

            Dean had gone still.  He felt all of their eyes on him as he processed what the cowboy had just told him.  “So…  Cass didn’t send you back here?  The whole thing was just a big accident, and my angel’s trapped in your world because of a _mistake?”_

            “Yeah,” Blake confessed.  The big man seemed to be bracing for Dean to attack him.

            Dean scoffed.  “Dude, I’m not gonna hit you.  I get it!  I mean, it’s pretty damned obvious that you don’t want to be here, so I don’t believe for a minute that you did this on purpose.  And it sure wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had some ignorant civilian gum up the works, ok?”

            The blue eyes went wide.  “You’re not mad?”

            “I’m mad as hell,” Dean replied cheerfully.  “And you know what I’m going to do?  I’m going to get you back to where you belong, and get my angel back.  And I’m going to gank anyone or anything who gets in the way of that!”  He looked Blake in the eye.  “You with me, cowboy?”

            Blake’s face broke into a wicked grin.  “Damned right!”

            “Good,” Dean announced.  “Because you and I are going out tonight.”

            Blake blinked.  “That so?”

            “Damned right!  Enough is enough, dude.  About time we started talking to each other instead of fighting.  And I know of no better way to do that than over cheeseburgers, beer, and a little pool.  What do you say?”

            Blake laughed.  “I say, let’s go!”

            “After you get your new tattoo,” Bobby announced.

            Blake’s smile immediately vanished.  “I was hoping you’d forgotten about that,” he admitted.

            “Not a chance!  Seriously, dude, it’s not that bad,” Dean offered.  He pulled his shirt open, displaying his tat, and saw Sammy do the same.  “It’s not even that big!”

            Blake sighed dramatically.  “Adam?” he announced.  “Is going to kill me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun thinks is nice they’re going to “gank” things. Wants to know what is it that they’re missing? Thinks it is very curious indeed. Is glad Blake finally told them, but gets why he wouldn’t now.


	11. Male Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake and Dean bond while Dean tries to refresh their supply of ready cash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Country Music Freak for sending me some awesome pics of Blake to use!

            Blake watched in dismay as Dean sank the eight ball.  “Aw, shit!  How much did we have on this game?”

            “Twenty bucks,” Dean reminded cheerfully.  “Pay up, cowboy!”

            Blake narrowed his eyes.  “This is the real reason you gave me my wallet back, isn’t it?”

            “Damned right!”

            “Well, ain’t that cute?” Blake complained.  “He gives me back my money just so he can steal it!”

            “I didn’t steal it,” Dean corrected.  “I just kicked your ass fair and square.  Now ante up!”

            “I’m still sore from those damned tattoos!”

            “Do you need a hanky to cry in Blake?”  Dean made grabby motions with his hands.

            “You know that, technically, this is counterfeit money?” Blake began as he pulled out his wallet.  “It’s from another dimension!  How do you even know it will spend the same?”

            “It looks exactly like our money here,” Dean retorted.  “Trust me, I can spend it!  I’m about to use it to pay for our food and drinks, like that damned vodka you’ve got there!”  He held out his hand.  “You’re the king of country music, Blake.  You can afford it!”

            “Not here I’m not!” Blake grumbled.  He pulled out a twenty and ruefully handed it over to Dean.  “Right here and now, I got no source of income whatsoever.  I’ll have to sing for my supper out in the street!”

            “Not a bad idea!  God knows we could use the money about now.  We’re kind of broke.”  Dean made the money disappear into his pocket.  Then he started racking the balls.  His green eyes swept over the bar, noting the other patrons.

            “You looking for a date?” Blake asked, apparently noting what Dean was doing.

            “You can say that,” Dean told him.  “I’m looking for a mark.  We’re a little low on cash, remember?”

            That made Blake’s eyebrows go up.  “You know, I kind of wondered how, exactly, you guys supported yourselves.  People don’t pay you for killing monsters?”

            “Generally, they try to arrest us for that,” Dean explained.  “Bobby’s got a little income from his salvage yard, and when I’m around, I’ll help out in his garage and he pays me for that.  And Sam and I will pick up odd jobs or do the occasional B and E on someone who’s got more money than they need.  You know, executives, self-entitled douche bags, country stars...?”

            “Nice.”  Blake was rolling his eyes.  “So I’m hanging out with criminals, wonderful.”

            “Credit card fraud is a victimless crime!” Dean protested.  “Those damned credit card companies rob everyone else, so it’s about time someone robs them!”

            “Let me get this straight,” Blake began.  “In order to support your monster killing habit, you jackasses do credit card fraud, robbery, and once in a while, some actual honest work?  What else do you do?  Mug someone?”

            “Nah, we’re the good guys, remember?”

            “Oh, right, how could I forget?”  Blake pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Alright, I’ll bite.  What are you doing in here now, Dean?”

            Dean gleefully chalked up his cue.  “Pool sharking!”

            Blake stared at him.  “Pool sharking?  You ain’t half bad, Dean, but you’re no pool shark!”

            Dean’s eyes brightened, coming to rest on a group of men who’d just come in the door.  “Watch and learn, cowboy!”  Raising his voice, he called.  “Come on, Blake!  I got another twenty bucks that says I can kick your ass again!  What do you say?”

            “I say you got lucky last time,” Blake called.  He looked mystified, but his back was to Dean’s targets, who had glanced over at the table.  “You’re on!”

            Dean’s father had introduced him to pool as soon as he was old enough to see over the table.  He’d played his entire life, and he and Sammy had cleaned out a lot of pockets.  But there was an art to it.  It wasn’t just about skill at the tables.  To make it work required a bit of acting skill.  And Dean had it down to a science.  After winning the coin toss, Dean intentionally did a bad break.  “Shit!  Can I have a do-over?”

            “Not a chance!  Time to win back my money!”  Blake was confident and smiling now as he went to work, moving skillfully around the table, seemingly no longer bothered by the pain of his new tattoos.  The big cowboy was better than Dean thought.  But soon enough, he made a mistake that ended in a scratch and Dean was back in control.  And by now, they had an audience.  The men Dean had been eying at the bar were watching with obvious amusement.

            Dean had a bite.  Now to set the hook.

            Dean evened the score a bit before intentionally missing a shot, letting Blake take control of the table again.  In the end, it was close, but Dean won and scored himself another twenty from the grumbling cowboy.  “Luck,” Blake declared as he handed it over.  “Pure luck!”

            “Skill, cowboy!  But whatever it takes to make you feel better.”  Dean glanced over, as if spotting the men at the bar for the first time.  “Tell you what.  See those guys over at the bar?”

            Blake glanced back.  “Yeah, what about ‘em?”

            Dean dug into his wallet and produced a fifty dollar bill.  “Let’s make this interesting, then.  Go ask them if they play.  Get them over here, let them play, and I’ll play the winner!  And if I win again?  You owe me fifty!”

            Blake raised an eyebrow at him.  “You sure about that?”

            Dean waved the money.  “Scared, cowboy?”

            That made Blake’s eyes narrow again.  Then he ambled over to the men at the bar.  The three listened to him, looked over at Dean, and grinned.

            Dean grinned back.  Hook, line, and sinker.  All he had to do now was reel them in.

            Dean was a master at smack talk.  He gently mocked all three of the men as they played it out, taking minor verbal abuse right back.  He used one of Blake’s twenties to buy them a round, then sat down with Blake to eat while the three finished their game.

            “Maybe it’s because I wasn’t raised a criminal, but I don’t get it, Dean,” Blake said softly while they dug into their cheeseburgers.  “I get that you’ll goad them into making bets with you too, just like you did me.  But what’s the point?  Most you’ll get out of these guys is another twenty, and you just spent most of that between the drinks you bought them, the drinks you bought us, and these burgers!”

            “Nah,” Dean replied.  “I’ll get a couple hundred out of those guys easy.  And that doesn’t include the fifty you’re about to owe me!”

            Blake’s face was a question mark.  “You ever lose?”

            “Sometimes,” Dean admitted.  He glanced back towards the pool table.  “But I’m not losing tonight.  Honestly, you could probably beat these guys, Blake!”

            “And you only beat me by the skin of your teeth!”

            “I made it look like I only beat you by the skin of my teeth,” Dean corrected.  “That’s part of the hustle, Blake.  By the time these jerks finish, whoever wins is going to feel like the king of the bar!  Then when I goad them into putting their money where their mouth is, they’ll empty their wallets.”

            Blake shook his head.  “I just hope you know what you’re doing, Dean-o!”

            “Trust me!  I’ve been doing this my whole life!”

            “Hey, buddy!” one of the men called from the tables.  “You ready to get your ass kicked?”

            Dean polished off his beer, swiped at his mouth with a napkin, and gave Blake a grin.  “Showtime!”

            Ten minutes later, Dean had three hundred and sixty dollars in his hands and three irritated men in his face.  He hated sore losers.  “You lost,” he told them.  “It was a fair match, you put the money down, and now it’s mine.”

            “You son of a bitch!”

            The guy he’d just been playing started towards Dean.  But he stopped fast, looking up when a giant of a cowboy suddenly loomed over him.  “Walk away,” Blake suggested.  “You played and you lost, same as me.  If it makes you feel any better, we all got cleaned out tonight!”

            “Dammit, my wife’s gonna kill me!” another of the men complained.

            “Tough shit, pal!” Blake snapped, unsympathetic.  Then his face broke into a pleasant smile.  “Consider it a learning experience.  Next time, think before you put that much money down!  Now take a walk!  Or, you can try to be stupid, take a swing, and we’ll bounce your sorry ass out of here?”

            Dean hadn’t been worried.  He knew he could take these yokels no problem.  But the sudden reminder that he’d been hanging out with a very large, potentially violent man seemed to make the three reconsider their actions.  They quieted, looked between Dean and Blake, and grumbled a bit more.  Then all three went storming out of the bar.

            Dean grinned up at Blake.  “You know, I should take you along every time I go out!”

            “Come on, Dean, I’m over forty, and you can’t be far behind me!  We’re both too damned old to get into bar fights!”

            “You’re never too old to punch a douche bag in the face,” Dean declared.  “That’s one of life’s perpetual pleasures.”  He slapped Blake on the shoulder and headed back to their booth.  “Drinks are on me, buddy!  I’m flush, especially after I add that fifty you owe me to my stash.”

            Blake just shook his head as he once more reached for his wallet.  He knew, just as Dean did, that the fifty represented the last of Blake’s money.  “You’re impossible!” the cowboy declared as he handed it over.

            Dean made the bill disappear.  “I know.  It’s one of my many charms.”

            Blake laughed.  Dean signaled for more drinks and realized something.  He actually liked Blake.  The big cowboy was charming as hell, quick to smile and laugh at Dean’s jokes, able to crack jokes of his own, and completely at ease.  He’d just watched Dean hustle three guys and hadn’t batted an eyelid.  In fact, Blake had actually stepped in and stood up for Dean when it looked like someone might throw a punch.  Blake was rapidly proving himself to be a real asset.

            “You know, as far as kidnapping fucks go, you ain’t half bad, Dean,” Blake noted, apparently thinking along the same lines as Dean.

            Dean grinned at him.  “Admit it!  I’m the best kidnapping fuck you know!”

            Blake shrugged.  “One of the top three, anyway.”

            Dean cleared his throat.  “We square about that, Blake?  I mean, you get why we did what we did to you, right?  I shouldn’t have been such an asshole, but we couldn’t trust you and we needed to protect you!”

            Blake rolled his lips into his mouth, seemed to consider the question for a moment, and then nodded.  “I get it.  I don’t necessarily agree with it, and I sure as hell didn’t like it!  But I get it.  Yeah, we’re square, Dean-o.”

            Dean smiled and raised his drink, tapping it with Blake’s.  “Thanks, cowboy.”

            “Just don’t do it again.”

            “No promises.”

            “Whatever.”  Blake sipped at his drink.  “You know, it would have prevented a whole hell of a lot of bullshit if you’d have just talked to me, Dean.  Right from the start, you were threatening me and being a complete prick!  Even Bobby and Sam thought you were being a complete prick!  And I get it, I do.  Losing your angel must have been a hell of a shock, but you seriously didn’t...”

            “Hey, hold up,” Dean called.  “Don’t get the wrong idea about me and Cass, ok?  We’re close, sure.  I care a lot about him, hell, he’s practically as much my brother as Sam is!  But Cass is an angel, Blake!  We’re not, I mean, it’s not like you!  I’m not, well...”

            Blake cocked an eyebrow.  “Gay?  I’m not gay either, Dean.”

            “Um, ok?”  It was Dean’s turn to look mystified.  He leaned back and raised his hands.  “You know what, whatever, man.  You’re married to a man and you obviously feel very strongly about him and that’s awesome.  But Cass and I aren’t like that, ok?”

            Blake shrugged.  “Sure, Dean, whatever you say.  You’re still a kidnapping fuck who was a complete prick to me.  But once you stop being a complete prick?  You’re almost tolerable.”  Blake gave him a little salute with his beer.  “In fact, you’re kind of charming, in a lying, cheating, stealing, kidnapping fuck kind of way!”

            Dean held a hand over his heart.  “Dude, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!”

            “Considering some of the things I’ve said to you, I’m not so sure that’s a compliment.”

            Dean gave him a grin.  “Oh come on, Blake!  Tell me how you really feel!  What do you honestly think of me?”

            “That you’re pretty enough to be a damned girl!” Blake retorted.  “Every woman in this bar has been giving you the eye, and some of the men!”

            Dean rolled his eyes.  “And you said you’re not gay!”

            “I’m not.  You’re still pretty.”

            “Aw, shucks, cowboy,” Dean drawled, batting his lashes at Blake.  “You just got me all a-flutter!”

            Blake laughed.  “Use some of that money to get yourself a lovely bra and panty set.”

            “I’ll pass on the bra.  Might spring for a pretty pair of panties, though.”

            Blake gave him a look.

            Dean never changed expression.

            “I double-dog dare you!” Blake challenged.  “And pics, or it didn’t happen!”

            Dean grinned, picked up a fry, and dipped it into his ketchup.  Then he stuck out his tongue and licked the ketchup off as suggestively as he possibly could, giving Blake the eye the entire time.

            Blake took another drink.  Then he calmly got up, slid into the booth next to Dean, grabbed Dean’s face in both hands, and planted a big wet sloppy kiss right on the corner of Dean’s mouth.

            “Dude!” Dean protested, shoving him away.  “Just because we slept together doesn’t mean I’m into you!  I don’t bat for your team!”

            “If you can’t take the heat, stay outta the kitchen, Dean,” Blake announced, moving back to his booth.

            That made Dean laugh.  The two ate for a moment in silence.  Dean noted Blake watching him and cocked an eyebrow.  “What?”

            "Blessed are those who have been persecuted for the sake of righteousness,” Blake quoted, looking thoughtfully at Dean.  “For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

            Dean blinked.  “Um, what?”

            “Cass,” Blake explained.  “Bobby told me that Cass calls you the Righteous Man?”

            “Yeah,” Dean said.  He shifted uncomfortably.  “No idea why, though.  I mean, you just saw me hustle some guys.  That sound especially righteous to you?”

            Blake hummed.  “You’re missing the point.  I get that you probably never spent a lot of time in Sunday school, but you’re a hunter who deals with angels and demons!  Didn’t you ever read the Bible?”  He frowned, thinking.  “Even if you should suffer for the sake of righteousness, you are blessed.  Do not fear their intimidation, and do not be troubled.  For it is You who blesses the righteous man, o Lord.  You surround him with favor as with a shield.”

            “I wish!”  Dean moodily played with his drink.  “There hasn’t exactly been a lot of shielding done around me.”

            “You sure about that?” Blake asked.  “You go running into vampire nests and haunted houses and God alone knows what else!  You’ve been doing it since you were a kid.  And you’re still alive!  Seems to me like someone’s looking out for you.”

            “Well, you know, I do have an angel on my shoulder!  Or at least I did.”  Dean frowned at his drink.  “Seriously, dude, I don’t know why he calls me that.”

            “Well, I probably misquoted like crazy back there, but I still think I may understand,” Blake offered.  “I remember a lesson back in my Sunday school about suffering for the sake of righteousness.  See, if someone is being unjustly punished, suffering for something they didn’t do and bearing it?  That’s suffering for the sake of righteousness.  And it’s precisely what you did, when you sold your soul to save your brother and suffered for forty years in Hell.  That’s where you were when you met Cass, isn’t it?”

            Dean nodded.  “Thing is, I broke while I was in Hell, Blake.  And Cass didn’t get me out until after I broke.  After so long, and what they did to me?  I reached the point where I’d do anything to get down off of that rack, even put someone else up in my place!  Now how’s that righteous?”

            “What’s righteous is that you did that in the first place,” Blake told him.  “Thing is, you still suffer for the sake of righteousness.  What you guys do, putting your own asses on the line to save others who will never thank you?  That’s pretty damned righteous if you ask me!  You kind of toe the line as far as the whole ‘good’ thing goes.  But yeah.  I kind of agree with Cass.  You are a righteous man, Dean.”

            “For one will hardly die for a righteous man, though perhaps for the good man someone would dare even to die,” Dean quoted.

            Blake raised his drink to him.  “Respect!  You did read your Bible after all!”

            “Kind of required reading in my line of work.”  Dean rubbed at the back of his neck.  “Think we can change the subject?”

            “Sure!”  Blake grinned.  “Wait until I tell Bobby you want to wear some pretty panties!”

            Dean stilled.  “I’d prefer you didn’t do that.”

            “I can be bribed,” Blake offered.

            Dean groaned and pulled out the wad of bills he’d won at pool.  “How much?”

            “Keep your weird alternate universe money,” Blake declared.  “I want something real!”

            “Fine!”  Dean shoved the money back into his pocket.  Then he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, ready to negotiate.  “What the hell do you want, then?”

            Blake rubbed at his chin.  “I’d be willing to forget this whole incident ever happened if, hmm.  That Impala of yours is sweet as hell, Dean!  Let me take her for a spin, and I’ll develop amnesia.  What do you say?”

            Dean smiled sweetly.  Then he pulled out his cell phone and tossed it to Blake.  “Call Bobby right now.  Tell him I’m thinking green satin panties, bikini cut, with little bows.”

            “One drive!” Blake pleaded.  “I’ll treat that princess like my own!”

            “Over my dead body!”  Dean took his phone back, checked the time, and rapidly finished his fries.  “Finish up,” he instructed.  “We got a lot of driving to do to get back to the bunker, so we gotta get on the road early.  That means it’s about time we headed back.”

            “A lot of driving, huh?”  Blake took a long drink.  “Don’t you think having three drivers instead of just two might just make that drive a little easier?”

            “You’re not driving my Baby, Shelton.”

            “Dammit, Dean!  I’ll be a hell of a lot gentler than your brother!”

            “I said no.  And that is final!”

            Blake scowled.  “Jackass!”

            “Douchebag!”  Dean finished his beer, shoveled the last of his fries into his mouth, and got up.  “On your feet, cowboy, it’s time we got this show on the road.”

            Blake thumped his glass dramatically back on the table and stood up.  “Whatever.  I...  Whoa!”

            Dean looked over in alarm and grabbed Blake as the big cowboy suddenly swayed on his feet.  Blake leaned heavily on Dean, his eyes closed and his head lolling on his neck.  “Blake?  Blake!  Damn, how much did you drink?!”

            Blake hummed and blinked.  His blue eyes looked dazed.  “Two shots of vodka and three beers.  Not enough to do this!”  He shook his head.  “Holy shit, that was weird!  Stood up and the whole world went grey!  Guess maybe I got up too quick?”

            “You ok now?”  When Blake nodded, Dean waved off the concerned bystanders and quickly got Blake moving.

            “I’m alright, Dean!” Blake protested as Dean walked him out to the Impala and pushed him into the passenger seat.

            “Blake, you almost passed out back there, and I want to know why!  You being here is breaking all the rules, remember?”  Dean leaned in the door and looked anxiously into Blake’s eyes.  “What’s going on with you, cowboy?”

            “I don’t know,” Blake admitted.  “I know I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, but I don’t know what brought this on.”

            Dean peered into Blake’s face.  “We should get you to a doctor.”

            Blake scoffed.  “Ah, bullshit!  We ain’t got time for that.”  He flashed his dimples at Dean.  “I’m fine, buddy.  Really!  Just a little wore out is all.”

            Dean wasn’t convinced, but didn’t know what to do.  He gave Blake a wary look, got into Baby and started her up.  “You sure you’re ok?” he asked again.

            Blake waved a hand in dismissal.  “I’ll feel a hell of a lot better if you let me drive?”

            “Funny guy.”  Dean pulled out, heading back to Bobby’s.  He frequently glanced at Blake as he drove.  Blake looked back to normal.  But something in the cowboy’s blue eyes troubled him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun says he liked the banter. Thought it was very funny.
> 
> Trivia Time!
> 
> Dean got sent to a possible future, where his future self asked him for proof of who he was. Dean recalled an incident where he'd been forced to wear panties, and admitted he'd "kind of liked it."


	12. Just My Imagination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake drives the Impala, and lets his imagination run wild.

            Dean, it seemed, was finally letting himself rest.  He was sleeping in the back seat, so Sam, who had heard the full story of their night out, had mischievously offered to let Blake drive.  Blake had no idea how a six-five man had managed to crawl past a six-four man in the front seat of the Impala, but somehow they’d managed to not only get Blake into the driver’s seat, but hadn’t awakened Dean.  According to the brothers, the rule in the car was “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole.”  Now that Blake was finally in the driver’s seat of the beautiful Impala, the first thing he did was find a decent country music station.  Then he settled back to enjoy the experience. 

            Whatever Dean’s flaws, no one could deny that he took great care of the Impala.  Every surface gleamed despite the amount of time Blake was all too aware that the brothers spent in the car.  The engine purred along, rumbling easily through the miles.  She handled like a dream.  In fact, the single flaw in the entire experience of driving Dean’s Baby was that it was Sam, not Adam, in the seat next to Blake.  But Sam quickly nodded off, both brothers still somewhat weak from their ordeal.  And that left Blake free to unleash his imagination.  He could almost picture him, his Rockstar, seated next to him in the car.

            _It’s so strange here,_ he thought, picturing Adam in his mind.  _A whole other reality!  Everything’s so similar, yet different.  And I miss you, Rockstar.  I miss you so much!_

            _“Where are you now?” Adam asked in his imagination.  “What’s happening to you?”_

_“I’m not alone,” Blake told him.  “I’ve got people here, friends.  But I’d rather have you.”_

_“Where are you, Blake?  Where?”_

_“Come and see!  I’ve got me one hell of a nice ride!”_

_Adam loved the Impala.  Adam’s thing was motorcycles, not cars, but he knew a fine machine when he saw one.  He smiled when Blake goosed the powerful motor to pass someone, delighting just as Blake did in the horses under the hood._

_“Pretty sweet, huh?” Blake asked.  “Dean’s Baby is quite the girl!”_

_Adam nodded, his eyes shining.  “What the hell is this guy doing chasing monsters around?  He should get into the restoration business and make a fortune!”_

_Blake nodded, agreeing.  “We still have that old mustang at the ranch.  Maybe we can get him to take a look?”_

_Adam cocked an eyebrow.  “Castiel told me about this guy.  You sure you want to subject us to Dean Winchester any more than we have to be?”_

_Blake considered the question.  “Yeah,” he said at last.  “Dean’s a piece of work, but once you understand him, get to know him a bit?  He’s not half bad.  Hell, he let us take his Baby out for a drive, didn’t he?”_

_“That he did.”  Adam’s hazel eyes moved to the passing scenery.  “Where are we, anyway?”_

_“Kansas.  There should be a nice flat stretch of road ahead.  I’d love a chance to open her up, see what our princess can do?”_

_Adam shot him a wicked grin.  “Hell yeah!”_

_“Then tighten your seatbelt,” Blake instructed.  “I’m about to set this girl free!”_

__

_And Blake did exactly that.  In the empty stretch of road across the wide open plain, the Impala smoothly accelerated until it was racing along, the powerful engine maintaining speed easily.  Adam laughed, delighted.  Then he began to softly sing, a country song that Blake was surprised to realize he didn’t know.  “That a new one?”_

_Adam nodded, his sweet tenor filling the car.  And for a moment, everything was right._

            Blake eased off the gas, letting the Impala go back to normal cruising speed.  Dean would probably skin him alive if he knew Blake was driving his precious Baby, much less if he ever found out that Blake had just been running her at 120 miles an hour.  But Blake wasn’t worried.  She had been flying at that speed with little to no effort, the well-maintained engine humming.  He glanced over his shoulder at Dean’s sleeping face in the back and smiled.  Next to him, Sam had his head back and his mouth open as he slept.  The two were so used to being in the car that not even Blake’s little adventure had awakened them.  He sighed.  He’d become fond of the brothers, but they certainly weren’t Adam!  If only Adam really was here, or better yet, Blake was back home, but still driving the Impala?  Blake’s smile grew wistful.  His daydream had been incredibly vivid.  He could still see Adam’s smile, the shining hazel eyes.  Adam’s voice was still filling the car.

            But wait a minute.  That much wasn’t his imagination.  Adam’s voice really was still filling the car.  Because Adam was singing on the radio.

            Blake somehow managed to slow and pull over to the side of the road to put the Impala into park.  His heart was pounding.  He couldn’t get enough air.  This was unmistakably Adam’s voice, that beautiful tenor moving with ease through the final verse of a country song.  Because Adam was a country singer here.  Because Adam wasn’t Adam.

            The song ended and Blake whimpered.  His hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel.  On the radio, the DJ was discussing Adam’s tour.  It had been a success despite the negative publicity Adam had received over a recent arrest for public intoxication.  Country fans were a forgiving bunch, and it seemed the title of Country’s Bad Boy went to Adam Levine in this world.  Blake panted softly, trying to control his emotions, listening to the DJ talking.  Levine, the DJ was explaining, would soon be returning back to his second home in Nashville for a short stop and one show before starting the next leg of his tour. 

            _Nashville.  And we’re in Kansas!_

            Blake fumbled for the glove box, oblivious of Sam’s startled gasp when he was jostled awake, and grabbed for the maps inside.  Finding the one he wanted, Blake spread it over the steering wheel.

            Dean sat up in the back seat, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.  “Sammy, why the hell is Blake driving?!”

            “Not now, Dean,” Sam cautioned.  His green eyes were narrowed in concern as he watched Blake.  “Blake, you ok, buddy?  You’re white as a sheet!”

            “Nashville,” Blake muttered.  “He’ll be in Nashville in a few days, just for a little while.  It’s our best shot!  We’re here in Kansas, here’s Nashville, ok.  What exit do I need?”

            “Blake?”  Sam’s hand was on his arm.  “What happened?”

            “I heard him,” Blake said, his eyes still on the map, plotting his course.  “His song was on the radio!  And the DJ said he’s going to be going back to Nashville for a few days.  I gotta be there to see him!  He’s the best chance I have to get back to my Adam, and I need a chance to talk to him!”

            The two brothers exchanged glances.  Then without a word, Sam quickly reached over, switched off the engine and claimed the keys, tossing them back to Dean.

            Blake immediately twisted in his seat, catching Dean by the shirt collar.  “Gimme those fucking keys, Dean!”

            Sam grabbed Blake’s arm.  “Come on, Blake, let go of him, ok?” he called.  “Let’s talk.”

            Blake let go of Dean long enough to grab Sam and shove him back against the door.  Then he had Dean with his other hand.  “The keys!” Blake roared.  “Now!”

            The brothers exchanged another look.  “Blake, did you hear Adam Levine on the radio?” Sam asked.

            “Yes!  Now give me those damned keys, Dean!”

            Dean looked remarkably calm.  “Blake, listen to me buddy.  We’ll find out exactly where Levine lives, and then you and I will drive up there.  But we need to go to the bunker.  It’s important that Sammy starts his research, ok?  We gotta go there first!”

            Blake’s face twisted into a snarl.  “Like hell we do!  We’re going to Nashville!  We can get there by morning if I drive all night!  You two can come with me or you can get out, but I’m going!  Now give me those fucking keys!”

            “Blake!  Dean and I are here to help you, remember?” Sam urged.  He was also calm, and his voice was soothing.  “You want to go see this world’s version of your husband?  That’s fine.  We already know Adam Levine’s our best chance at getting a message to Cass if you can convince him to help us.  So take Dean and go right ahead to Nashville!  But drop me off at the bunker first, so I can start researching, ok?  Because it won’t do a bit of good for you to get Levine on board with helping us if we don’t have the spell to use, or a power source to fuel the other one!”  He gently tapped on Blake’s hand, which was still fisted tightly in Sam’s shirt.  “Don’t hurt us, Blake.  We’re here to help you!”

            “Come on, buddy.”  Dean was still calm.  “Let go of us.  We’ll both go find Levine.  I’ll help you, right after we drop off Sammy.  You’re not alone in this, ok?”

            Blake let go of the brothers.  He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the steering wheel.  “You’re gonna help me find him, Dean?”

            “Yeah, I’m going to help you, Blake.  So’s Sammy, and so’s Bobby!  That was the plan all along, remember?  And it’s not a trick.  Here.”

            Blake opened his eyes to see Dean’s hand near his face, dangling the keys.  He grabbed them, looking uncertainly at the two brothers.  “You two assholes aren’t going to knock me over the head or something, are you?” he asked cautiously.

            “No, Blake.  No one is going to hurt you,” Sam assured.  His green eyes seemed to urge Blake to trust him.  “You’re safe, alright?  Just please take us to the bunker first.  Y-you could come inside for supplies, and maybe get some rest?  Then you can be right back on the road.  But you don’t have to,” he added quickly, seeing Blake starting to tense again.  “If you want, you can drop me off, take Dean and just keep going.  That’s fine, so long as you drop me off at the bunker first.  Will you do that?”

            Blake breathed through his nose, thinking it over.  “I just don’t know if I can trust you guys.”

            “We’re trusting you here, Blake!” Dean urged.  “You’re literally in the driver’s seat!”  He was still leaning forward over the seat, but nothing about his posture was intimidating.  He gave Blake a grin.  “You want to go to Nashville, we’re fine with that.  It was the plan anyway, remember?  And I’ll help you.  Just drop off Sammy and let him do his nerd thing.  Then take me, and we’ll go try for Levine!  But let Sammy out first.  Don’t kidnap us both to Tennessee, ok?”

            Blake snorted.  “Seems to me turnaround’s fair play,” he called, starting the engine back up.

            “Yeah, well, after you drop me off at the bunker, you can kidnap Dean,” Sam offered.  “Just don’t expect me to pay ransom for him!”

            “Can I handcuff him to the seat?” Blake asked.

            Sammy shrugged.  “Sure, be my guest!”

            “Hey!”

            And then they were laughing, and Blake got them back on the road.  His cheeks were flaming.  “Sorry, boys,” he called.  “No idea what came over me!  I just…”  He shook his head.  “Hearing Adam’s voice, I flipped right out for a bit there, didn’t I?”

            “No harm, no foul,” Dean declared, sitting back.

            Blake met the older brother’s eyes in the rearview mirror.  “You’re really gonna let me take you out to Nashville, Dean?”

            “Sure, buddy!  It’ll help us both, right?  Besides, I gotta make sure you don’t flip out again, or pass out like you almost did last night!”

            Blake nodded ruefully.  “Wise, I suppose.  But really, I’m fine, Dean.  I wouldn’t be driving if I wasn’t!”

            Dean hummed, but didn’t look convinced.

            “At the risk of flipping you out again right here and now, why don’t you spend the night at the bunker, Blake?” Sam suggested.  “You said yourself that Levine will be in Nashville in less than a week.  So why don’t you get some rest?”

            “I know I’d feel better,” Dean offered.  “Blake, you won’t let me take you to see a doctor.  Will you at least let me make sure you’re well-rested?  Then I’ll make you a hot breakfast in the morning before we hit the road!”

            “You’re like a damned mother hen!” Blake complained.

            “Get used to it,” Sam advised.  “I’ve lived with it all our lives.  And he’s right, Blake.  You know he is.  The only thing you’re going to accomplish if you just take off is giving yourself longer to wait!”

            Blake nodded.  “You’re right.  Like I said, I really lost my head for a minute there.”

            Dean slapped his shoulder.  “Just be careful driving my Baby, Shelton,” he warned.  “She gets a single scratch, I’m kicking Sam’s ass!”

            “Hey!”  Now it was Sam’s turn to protest.

            “You let him drive, you take the licks,” Dean declared. 

            Sam scowled at him.  “Jerk!”

            Dean smirked back.  “Bitch!”

            “Children!” Blake called.  “Don’t make me turn this car around!”

            “Tell me again why you let him drive, Sammy?”

            “Because he doesn’t drive like a maniac like you do, Dean!  Call me crazy, but the idea of actually surviving this trip has its appeal!”

            “Whatever.”  Dean was getting comfortable in the back seat again.  Apparently, he wasn’t done with his nap.  “Meanwhile, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to change the station?”

            “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole,” Sam reminded.

            “And backseat driver goes into the trunk if he touches that radio,” Blake warned.

            Dean sulked.  But the radio station remained unchanged.

            It wasn’t until later that Blake realized that Dean had just willingly let him drive his Baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun liked Blake’s daydream, especially the 120 mph driving!


	13. Partners In Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake and Dean head to Nashville to scout Adam Levine. Dean has an idea of how they can pass the time until Levine returns.

            The bunker was exactly what it sounded like.  But inside of it was a huge library, along with a sizeable collection of magical artifacts.  Would one of them be strong enough to power the spell they needed?  Dean seemed confident that they’d find something.  But Blake couldn’t miss the skepticism in Sam’s green eyes, even as the younger brother talked about various things they could try.  It made sense.  Dean, Blake was starting to realize, needed a way to reach his angel almost as much as Blake needed to reach Adam.  And now, if he could contact this world’s version of Adam, they might have a chance.  As a result, Blake was impatient to get started.

            The shower felt divine, the bed even better.  Blake thought he’d never sleep, but he’d dropped off almost immediately and before he knew it, he was awakened by the smell of Dean cooking breakfast.  Dean, still in mother hen mode, hovered over Blake to make sure he ate.  Blake ate enough to satisfy him and was rewarded with a pleased smile.  A quick conference call with Bobby, a new cell phone (produced God knows how from God knew where and paid for by God knew what) for Blake, and they were ready to go.  They loaded up the Impala with whatever they thought they might need, and once again they were on the road.  Blake was starting to feel like he’d already spent a lifetime in the car.  He couldn’t imagine being Dean or Sam, who actually had.

            “You sure you’re feeling ok?” Dean asked again as they started out.  “You’ve been looking a little piqued, Blake.  If you don’t want to go to a hospital, fine, but we know some people we could get to take a look at you?”

            Blake shook his head.  “Right now, the only thing I want is to get there and get started.  I’m fine, Dean.  Just tired, is all.”

            It was true.  Blake was tired.  The problem was, he was tired all the time.  It puzzled Blake.  He was getting plenty of rest, especially last night.  But he’d felt about ten years older as he’d forced himself out of bed and into the shower this morning.  Then there was the fact that he’d damned near fallen flat on his face when the world had yet again gone grey on him when he’d gotten up.  He’d had to sit down fast on the edge of the bed, take a few moments to get his bearings before he tried getting up again.  Not good.  If Sam, or worse Dean, found out about that, Blake suspected he’d never leave the bunker.  Oh well.  Maybe, once he’d gotten into contact with Levine, some of the stress would fade and he’d feel better?  At any rate, there wasn’t much he could do about it.  One thing at a time.  Get Levine on board, set things up to communicate with Adam.  Then pull the brothers aside and talk to them about maybe seeing a doctor.  No point worrying Dean any more than Blake was all too aware the older brother was already worrying, and now it seemed Sam was right there with him.  Blake couldn’t turn around without seeing one set or another of worried green eyes watching him.  That wouldn’t do.  The brothers had enough to worry about without playing nursemaid to him!  _Cowboy up, Shelton,_ he told himself.  _Put your smile on, stop acting like an invalid, and get your shit together.  It’s the only way you’ll see Adam again!_

            He and Dean took turns driving and made good time, although Dean did the lion’s share while Blake napped most of the trip.  To his credit, Dean didn’t say anything.  Before Blake knew it, Dean was gently shaking him awake as they rolled into Nashville.  Naturally, they’d arrived well before Adam was due to return.  But Dean assured him that this was a good thing.  “Gives us a chance to do a little recon,” he told Blake.  “First thing we should do is swing by his place, get a look at it, see what kind of security we’re dealing with.”

            That sounded reasonable enough.  But Blake’s stomach was churning with anxiety by the time Dean pulled the Impala up to the curb next to Adam’s Nashville home.  Blake supposed he was naturally prejudiced, but the home looked cold and impersonal, with heavy iron bars at the gate and a brick wall that surrounded the property.  The initials “AL” were worked into the gate.  The building itself was two stories and painted grey with white trim.  All the windows had heavy dark curtains.  Blake thought it looked more like a fortress than a home.

            Just inside the gate stood a uniformed security guard.  The guard gave them a cheerful wave and, to their surprise, opened the security entrance next to the gate and came over.  “Howdy,” the man called, leaning on the roof of the Impala to talk through their window.  “Hell of a nice ride you got here!”

            “Thank you,” Dean said.

            “Something I can help you boys with?”

            “We’re tourists,” Blake called before Dean could reply.  “Just wanted a look at the place, ya know?  The home of Adam Levine!  You probably see folks like us a lot, huh?”

            “Sure do!  We get tourists coming by here all the time.  But I’m afraid I’ll have to ask y’all to move along now.”

            “Sure thing!”  Blake nodded at Dean.  “You heard the man.”

            Dean flashed a smile.  “Say, Levine wouldn’t happen to be home, would he?  My buddy here’s a huge fan.”

            “Nah, he’s out, but he’ll be back in a couple days.”  The guard smiled back at him.  “But there’s no point trying to see him.  It’s not going to happen.”

            “Oh, I ain’t stalking him or anything!” Blake laughed.

            “Oh, yes you are, Mr. Shelton,” the guard replied cheerfully back.  “And you should know, every single member of his household staff is with us now, one way or another.”

            Blake froze, and then stiffened with alarm as the guard’s eyes suddenly turned black.  “Take care, gentlemen.  Oh, by the way, the King of Hell sends his regards.  He’ll be expecting your call, Mr. Shelton, when you decide you’d like his help after all.”  The black eyes winked at Blake, reverted to human again, and the guard returned to his post.

            Dean quickly drove away, pulling over again when they were out of sight of the guard.  Then he pounded the steering wheel with the heel of his hand.  “Dammit!  I should have known.  Fucking Crowley!”

            “Dean?” Blake managed.  “What in blazes was that thing?!”

            “Demon,” Dean reported.  “That’s what the garden variety looks like.  I hate those guys!  Black-eyed bastards are going to be all over Levine.  They probably already are! That son of a bitch Crowley has him surrounded, Blake!  He’ll block any attempt we make to get through to Levine!”  He pounded the steering wheel again, looking disgusted.  “That limey bastard has been a step ahead of us this whole time!  Levine’s not even there, but there’s a demon at the gate because Crowley knew we’d try for him!  Fuck!  Fucking Crowley!”

            The two were quiet for a moment.  Blake’s heart was pounding.  He abruptly got out of the car and paced a bit, running his shaking hands through his hair.  Demons?  Actual _demons_ around Adam?  Even though it wasn’t his Adam, the idea made Blake feel like throwing up. 

            “Blake?” Dean called from in the car.  “Get back inside, buddy.”

            “What the hell for?” Blake wanted to know.  “We can’t get past a shitload of demons!”

            “The hell we can’t!  We’ll find a way,” Dean insisted.  “Now get back in the car!”

            Blake shook his head.  He put his back to the Impala, leaning back against it for support.  “What do we do, Dean?” he asked.  “Tell me you have some sort of plan!  I mean, this is what you do, right?  Hunt monsters?  If that fucker’s right, then Levine’s about to walk into a house full of ‘em!  So tell me what to do, Dean, because this guy is the best chance we have at getting through to Cass, and Cass is the only one who can get us both back to where we belong!”

            “I know!” Dean called.  “Calm down.  You’re right, this is what I do, ok?  I’ll think of something.  We got time, it’s days before he comes back.”  He made his voice softer.  “Blake?  Get back in the car, buddy.”

            “There any point?” Blake asked bitterly.

            “I’m not ready to pack up and go home yet,” Dean retorted.  “And you shouldn’t be either!  Now get your hillbilly ass back in this car!”

            Blake glanced back at him, saw Dean’s earnest expression, and nodded.  He quietly climbed back into the car.  Dean pulled back into the street.  “We’ll get through this,” Dean assured.

            Blake still wasn’t convinced.  “You really think you’ll find a way to get through to Adam?”

            “I will absolutely find a way,” Dean growled.  “For you, for your husband, for Levine, and for Cass!  Because we’re going to fix this mess, I swear it!  Alright?”

            “Alright.”  The fiery determination in Dean’s green eyes did more to calm Blake than anything else.  He breathed a sigh of relief.  “Whatever you need, buddy, say the word.”

            “I will.  And we’ll need Sammy.  This is definitely going to take at least all three of us.  Wish we had Bobby, too, but he’s gonna be halfway across the country by now, going to visit some contacts of his about those spells.  I hate to drag Sammy away from his research, but we don’t have a choice.  He’ll just have to toss a bunch of his dusty old books into a bag and bring them along!”  Dean suddenly looked sly.  “Meanwhile, I got something to take your mind off of it!”

            “Oh, I doubt that very highly, Dean,” Blake grumbled, “but what did you have in mind?”

            “A case.  I knew we’d be waiting for a while, so I found us a case.”

            Blake looked up.  “A case?  A case of what?”

            Dean rolled his eyes.  “Measles, Blake.  A case of measles.”

            “A case of...  Wait a minute.  An actual hunter case?  You want to take me monster hunting?!”

            Dean shrugged.  “Sure, why not?  You can handle yourself in a fight.  Just follow my lead, and you’ll be fine!”

            Blake eyed him.  “More vampires?

            “Nope, this is something new for you!”  Dean flashed him a grin.  “Wanna be a ghostbuster?”

            “…What?”

****

            A day later, Blake was officially a criminal.  “You know,” he began, firing off yet another shotgun blast, “of all the crimes I thought I might commit in the sowing of my wild oats, this is not one that I would have considered!”

            “Congratulations!” Dean declared.  “You’ve now lost your grave desecration virginity.  Keep those bitches off of me a bit longer!”

            “Dammit, Dean move faster!” Blake yelled, rapidly reloading.  “These fuckers really want a piece of our asses!”

            “You mean they want a piece of _your_ ass!”  The hunter had already dumped salt over the bodies they’d just spent hours searching a haunted house to find.  Now he was emptying the contents of a container of lighter fluid over the desiccated remains.  “You just had to get their attention, didn’t you?!”

            “Sorry!”  Blake blasted the spirit again as it reformed.  Shrieking, it once again dissipated.  “Next time I’ll let them kill you!  I’m not the one who decided to come in here after a ghost and somehow managed to completely miss the fact that there’s actually three of ‘em, am I?!”

            “I’m not the one who left the door unlatched so the wind could break our salt circle, am I?!”

            “You came in behind me, ya moron!”

            “I told you to close the door!”

            “I kicked it shut!”

            “You didn’t latch it!”

            “Well I’m sorry!”  This time the furious spirit was almost in Blake’s face.  Blake swore and fired once more.  “Dean, I swear if you don’t get this fucking thing finished in the next five seconds I’ma shove this shotgun right up your ass!”

            “I love you too, Blake!”  Grinning, he tossed the can of lighter fluid aside.  Then he handed Blake a pack of matches with a flourish.  “You wanna do the honors?”

            “Yeah, why the hell not?”  Blake traded his shotgun for the matches.  Then he tore off a match and closed the cover to strike it.

            “No no,” Dean scolded.  “You gotta do this right!  Light the whole book!”

            “Seriously?”  Blake shook his head and lit up the entire book of matches, which he then dropped onto the corpses just as a spirit once again came after him.  The flames roared up instantly, and the spirit vanished in flames.  Blake, who had instinctively stepped back, found himself singed and quickly moved away from the corpses.  “Maybe a bit too much lighter fluid?” he called.

            “Did you really want those things to get a hold of you again, Blake?” Dean asked.  “No?  Then be glad I did it my way!  One burst of flame, and it’s all over!”

            Blake hunkered down with his hands on his knees and tried to get his breath back.  “Son of a bitch,” he panted.  “That was way too close for this cowboy!  Seriously, Dean, there’s gotta be a better way to do this than to just go charging in and piss these things off!”

            Dean scoffed.  “Do I tell you how to sing?”

            “No, but I’m happy to give you some lessons,” Blake offered.  Now that the murderous ghosts were gone, his racing heart was finally starting to slow and Blake was eager to think about something else.  “I heard you singing in the car.  You ain’t half bad, Dean!  I’d be happy to do some vocal coaching for you in exchange for these hunting lessons you’re giving me?”

            Dean gave him a sideways look.  “…You serious?”

            “Sure, why not?”

            Dean eyed him a bit more, and then gave a small smile.  “I think I’d like that.  How’s your hand?”

            “Stings like a bitch.”  Blake eyed the cut he’d made in his hand ruefully.  “Don’t worry, I’m current on my tetanus.  At least now we’re sure you’re right about the unicorn thing.  Soon as I spilled a little blood, all three of those damned ghosts got offa you and came right for me!”

            “Yeah, they did.  And that was seriously one of the ballsiest and stupidest things I’ve ever seen, Blake!  And yelling, ‘Hey, I’m a unicorn, come get me?’  Seriously?”

            Blake shrugged.  “Worked, didn’t it?”

            “A little too well!  Those sons of a bitches let go of me and went charging after you, and I really thought you were a goner!  Good thing you’re handy with that shotgun!”  The green eyes studied Blake.  “You alright?”

            “I’m fine, Dean.  And now I can add ‘Ghostbuster’ to my resume!”

            “Just don’t ask me for a reference,” Dean grumbled.  “Not sure what part of ‘follow my lead’ you missed, but you could have seriously been hurt or killed.  Don’t ever do anything that stupid again!”

            Blake shrugged.  “You’re the expert.  Although, while we’re on the subject, it does seem like you made this whole ghostbusting thing way harder than it needed to be.”

            Dean blinked.  Then he scoffed.  “Ok, then, Mighty Novice, enlighten me!  How do you think we should have done this?”

            Blake considered the question as he watched the corpses burn.  “Well, the first thing I would have done was been a bit better prepared for going into this house.”

            Dean stared at him.  “Better prepared than shotgun shells filled with salt, jugs of salt, lighter fluid, matches, and iron crowbars?!”

            “Sure!  Let’s start with the crowbars.  We had those because you said ghosts can’t abide the touch of iron, right?  But the first thing you did when we got attacked was drop your damned crowbar, Dean!  Why don’t you keep it on some kind of bungee cord, attach it to your wrist?  Then you can let go of it to use your hand without having to put it down!  And then there’s the salt.  Shotgun shells with rock salt, yeah, I can see the value there.  But see, even if I had latched that door, we have to be real careful we don’t break our salt circle by kicking dirt on it or stepping on it.  Why don’t we just get some flexible silicone tubing from any hardware store, fill it up with salt, and seal the ends together?  We can fold it up in the trunk until we need it, drag it out, drop it down.  Bam, instant salt circle that can’t really be broken ‘cause it’s contained!”  Blake shook his head.  “You said salt works on demons, too?  We should seriously get some tubes, Dean.  You know, no pun intended, but it must be hell to be a demon in the winter in northern states where they salt the roads!”

            Dean was now scowling fiercely.  “Anything else, oh wise and experienced one?”

            “Well, y’all use holy water a lot.  Why not put it into a water gun, or better yet, one of those super soakers that can blast water way out ahead?  Might save your lives!  And what about silver?  You said you deal with things that can’t abide the touch of silver, so why not wear silver rings?  Make rings that are part silver and part iron and you got a two-for-one special right there!  Maybe consider making some brass knuckles out of iron and silver as well.  That should help one hell of a lot!”  Blake shrugged.  “I think that’s a good enough start.”

            “You should know, there’s ways things are done,” Dean told him.  “Time honored and time-tested traditions, handed down through generations of hunters!”

            Blake shrugged again.  He paused, looking back at the fire.  “You know, it’s got a certain kind of beauty to it, doesn’t it?  It kind of looks like…  Yeah, ok, it looks like a pile of burning corpses.  I write songs, not poetry.  And it smells.  The only thing here that smells worse than this is us!  Do you think it’s ok now, so we can go get showers?”

            “Yeah, let’s.”

            As the two headed back to the car, Dean lagged a bit behind.  Blake looked back and saw him rapidly sending a text.  “Asking Sammy to pick up flexible silicone tubing, some bungee cord, and some water guns?”

            “None of your business, Shelton!”

            Blake laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun laughed that the country hick on his first day on the job is thinking so much outside of the box and showing up Dean, the greatest hunter there ever was. Thinks John Winchester was coming out of Dean’s mouth about time honored traditions. Laughed about him texting Sammy and Blake guessing what he was doing. Is pissed at Crowley, but figured it would not have been that easy. 
> 
> Trivia Time!
> 
> A long-standing fan gripe that has become a bit of a trope with "Supernatural" is how often the characters drop their weapons. It's long been suggested that the brothers should use some bungee straps to keep their weapons from being constantly lost.


	14. Q and A Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake and Dean get to know each other better over a little game of Questions and Answers. Blake spots a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is "Desperado" by the Eagles. This is the main theme here for Blake and Dean. Unfortunately, I could not find a decent lyrics video to link, sorry!

            Dean bit into his cheeseburger and hummed in pleasure.  Perfect, done exactly the way he liked it and with just the right amount of extras.  Juice was dripping down his chin.  He dabbed at it with a napkin, and then washed it all down with a chug of beer.  “Good beer,” he announced.

            “Not bad, but the burger’s fantastic,” Blake declared.  “Can’t beat it when it’s juicy enough to run down your chin!”

            Dean thought Blake was making fun of him.  But then he saw the cowboy dabbing at his own chin and laughed.  “You know who has the best beer?” he asked.  “There’s this company down in Austin Texas called Family Business?  They’re real small, just starting out, really.  But damned good craft beer!”

            “Might have to check it out,” Blake mused.  “You like anything harder though, Dean?  I’m kind of fond of Smithworks vodka myself.”

            “Most days, I’ll drink anything fermented,” Dean said.  “Doctors always say we should drink more clear fluids, right?”

            “Beer,” Blake intoned, holding up his bottle and looking serious.  “It’s what’s for dinner.”

            “Here here!” Dean laughed.  He tapped his bottle against Blake’s and they both took a long drink.  Then Dean returned to his cheeseburger, but his eyes were still on Blake. 

            Blake looked so relaxed and at ease now, nothing like when he’d first met the man.  Even when he’d freaked out after hearing his husband’s voice on the radio, it hadn’t been hard to calm him.  But it seemed Blake wasn’t sleeping, at least not well.  Dean’s sharp eyes picked out the slight darkening under Blake’s eyes, the telltale signs of fatigue in his voice and his actions.  That was worrisome.  Dean really liked the guy, and now he was afraid that something was seriously wrong with him.  But anyone would like Blake.  Blake was a big, friendly, charming southern hick.  He could have literally charmed the pants off of their waitress, who kept making excuses to hover near their table.  She’d barely even glanced at Dean, delighted by the amicable cowboy.  Normally, Dean would have taken that as a challenge, but the immediate question it raised quieted him.

            “Spill it,” Blake called.  “You’re staring at me like you got something on your mind, Dean.  What is it?”

            Dean cleared his throat, embarrassed at being caught staring.  “It’s stupid and I don’t want to piss you off.”

            “Which leads me to suspect I know what you want to ask,” Blake sighed.  He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on the table.  “How about this.  Let’s play a little game.  It’s called ‘Questions and Answers.’  You ask me question, and I’ll answer it, but then I get to ask you one, and you answer it.  Deal?”

            Dean considered.  “And I get to start?”

            Blake gestured towards him.  “You get to start.”

            “Alright, deal.”  He hesitated, eyeing Blake.  “Blake, you’re married to a man.”

            “Is that your question?”

            “No, I mean, I know you’re married to a man!  But you flirted like crazy with that waitress!”

            Blake shrugged.  “Why not?  She’s cute, isn’t she?  I don’t intend to cheat, but I like to flirt with a pretty gal as much as the next guy!”

            Dean cocked an eyebrow.  “So, what, you’re bisexual?”

            “Dean, I’m straight,” Blake told him calmly.  “I told you that, but you obviously don’t believe me.”

            Dean shook his head.  “No, I heard you say it, and you seemed sincere.  But Blake, you’re married to a man!”

            “Sure am!”  Blake happily displayed his wedding band.  “And I had my hand out where she could see it.  I wasn’t leading her on.”  He smiled.  “Being married doesn’t mean you’re dead.  Adam says I’m a natural flirt, but honestly, if that ain’t the pot calling the kettle black, I don’t know what is!”  He leaned forward.  “My turn to ask a question.”

            Dean had more questions, but he recognized the trap he’d just gotten himself into.  He sighed.  “Alright, what’s your question?”

            “How do you feel about gay men?”

            Dean had expected Blake’s questions to be about hunting.  He was not prepared for this one.  “I, um, well, whatever, you know?  You like guys, fine, knock yourself out.  Just don’t come after me!”

            “Got a fairly high opinion of yerself, doncha, Dean-o?” Blake noted with an exaggerated drawl.

            Dean squirmed.  “I didn’t mean…!  Oh, whatever.  My turn for a question!”

            Blake gave a little wave, conceding this.

            “Ok, this one I’m dying to know.  How can you say you’re straight, and be married to a man?”

            “Do you believe in soulmates, Dean?”

            “Soulmates?”  Dean shrugged.  “Kind of rate them up with the Easter Bunny, although after some of the shit I’ve seen, I might hedge with the bunny.  Why?”

            “Well, like I said, I’m straight.  I never had any interest in other men and still don’t.  I was born and raised in Oklahoma, and my family, hell, my whole neighborhood, were fairly stereotypical southern hicks.  We used to play basketball using a big old knothole for a hoop, and we chased the girls and they chased us.  And when one guy, a buddy of mine by the name of Nick, got drunk and tried to kiss another guy?  Not only did we beat the shit out of him, but we ran him out of town!”

            Dean grew still, watching Blake.  The blue eyes were lost in his troubling memory.  “See, we all wanted to believe we were good, God-fearing Christian people.  We did that, me and my friends, to Nick, a fellow we all grew up with and had known our whole lives.  And our parents didn’t say a word.  If anything, they approved!  They believed we were protecting ourselves.  But they forgot some important things.”

            Blake paused, and Dean leaned forward.  “Like what?  What did they forget?”

            But Blake leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.  “My turn to ask a question.”

            Dean groaned.  “Ok, ask!”

            “Your brother Sam.  You two are obviously damned close, and given what you’ve gone through together, I get it.  If he sat you down and told you he was gay, would you love him any less?”

            “What?” Dean sputtered.  “Hell no!  I’d be surprised, sure, that’d be a bit of a shock.  But we’re talking about a guy who got addicted to drinking demon blood and ended up releasing Lucifer on the world, ok?  Long story,” he said, noting Blake’s expression.  “And it doesn’t matter.  The point stands.  That didn’t change how I feel about him one damned bit!  He’s my brother.  I love him.  I always will.”  He narrowed his eyes.  “Ok, what did they forget?”

            “Well, like I said, we all wanted to believe we were good Christians,” Blake explained.  “We went to church, sang in the choir, went to all the church picnics.  And we justified what happened to Nick with that same church.  But what everyone seemed to forget was that the lessons we learned in Sunday school?  They were all about a man who never really hung out much with good, God-fearing people like we believed we were.  He hung out with a bunch of thugs, thieves, and prostitutes.  He went around telling people that they needed to live less by the laws, one of which we had held up to justify what we’d just done, and more by one very simple principle – love one another.  And that was the man who died so we could be good, God-fearing Christians!  Now at the time, I didn’t get it.  Part of me knew what we’d done was wrong.  And it quickly became the town’s shameful secret.  Now, that didn’t make a lick of sense when you think about it.  We told ourselves we’d done the right thing, then we immediately tried to pretend it had never happened.  And that is the single most shameful thing I have ever done in my life!  Something I can’t ever make right!”  He snorted.  “Of course, some of the things you told me make that seem pretty tame in comparison, but it still doesn’t make it right.  But that’s the man I was before I met Adam.  Now, understand, being out in the business away from my little hole in the world where I grew up?  That opened my eyes to a whole lot of things.  But I still wasn’t anywhere near ready to ever even consider a relationship with another man!”  Blake pointed a finger at Dean.  “Why is it that it’s alright for Sam to come out as gay, but not you?”

            Once more, Dean sputtered.  “Dude, what the hell?  I’m not gay, ok?!”

            Blake crossed his arms over his chest again and frowned at Dean.  “You didn’t answer the question.”

            “Oh for…!  Ugh, um, well…”  Dean rubbed his forehead.  “I guess it’s alright.  It wouldn’t ever happen, but it’s alright.  Hey, that was an easy question to answer!  Ok, when did you realize you were gay?”

            “That was an even easier question to answer,” Blake declared.  “The answer is, I didn’t.  Because I’m not gay.  My turn.  How would your father have reacted if you ever came out to him?”

            That made Dean frown.  “My father?  Wait, what about my father now?”

            “Bobby told me a little bit about him,” Blake explained.  “How he raised you and your brother to be warriors after your mom died, and how you pretty much gave up your whole childhood to take care of your brother.  That’s damned commendable, Dean, but he raised you to be this big tough manly warrior.  So how would he have reacted if you came up to him one day and said, ‘Hey Dad, I’m gay?’  What would have happened?”

            Dean sighed.  “Subject never really came up.  But if it had?  Honestly, it probably would have been pretty much the same sort of thing that happened with Nick in your town.  Dad didn’t tolerate much deviance from his plans for us.  In fact, when Sammy told him he wanted to quit hunting and go to school, dad told him that if he went out the door, not to bother coming back!  So I imagine if I told him I was gay, dad would have beaten the shit out of me and left me bleeding by the side of the road!”  He eyed Blake.  “I guess that pretty much answers your question, huh?  It never really came up, but dad didn’t tolerate much, and he wasn’t known for being progressive.”

            Blake shook his head and took another sip of his beer.  “You and I grew up the same way, at least in some aspects.  And we both have great taste in cheeseburgers!”

            “I’ll drink to that!”  Dean took a long pull, finishing his bottle and signaling for another.  “Ok.  So we’ve established you’re straight.  So what the hell made you decide to marry a guy?”

            “Soulmates,” Blake said simply.  “We finally realized that the two of us were just meant to be together.  But it took a damned long time, Dean.  Adam and I met on the set of ‘The Voice’ and we hit it off pretty quick.  I’ve always been a pretty tactile guy, and I found out fast that Adam liked to cuddle.  So I cuddled him.”

            “But you weren’t gay,” Dean noted.  His voice dripped with sarcasm.

            “No,” Blake said calmly.  “I wasn’t.  But I found out from multiple sources that Adam was bisexual.  Even then, there was nothing behind it.  He and I just clicked.  We started spending time together, going to each other’s houses.  And it was just friendship, really.  Of course, people tried to make it more than it was, the whole ‘bromance’ and ‘Shevine’ thing…”

            Dean groaned.  “You too, huh?  Be glad you don’t have ‘Destiel’ or worse, ‘Wincest!’  Fans of ‘Supernatural’ are crazy, dude.”

            Blake looked blank, and then remembered.  “That’s right, you got sent to an alternate reality where there was no magic and your lives were a TV show!”

            “Nah, that’s right here,” Dean explained.  “We got this little guy named Chuck who’s actually a prophet?  He got visions about us, and turned them into books.  Son of a bitch wrote a whole series of stupid-ass novels about our life, also called ‘Supernatural.’  Was never real popular, thank God, but those who read them?  Well, let’s just say some of them really got into their fiction.  And these people are freaks, man!  They have conventions, dress up like us, drive replicas of Baby…  And the fanfiction!”  Dean shuddered.  “That way lies madness, my friend.”

            Blake’s eyes were very wide.  “You said ‘Wincest?’  Surely you don’t mean…!”

            “Madness,” Dean repeated.  “Apparently, there’s ‘subtext,’ whatever the hell that means.  Bottom line, I get what you mean.  People read all kinds of shit into relationships, especially if they’re close.  I love my brother, Chuck wrote about it, and weirdos on the internet started making up raunchy stories about us.  Now it’s happening with me and Cass!  Problem with that is, other people are reading into that now, too.  And it’s not strangers.  It’s people I actually do give a shit about!  People like the cowboy sitting across this table from me!  Because that’s what this whole thing is about, isn’t it, Blake?  This little game of yours?”

            “You asked me a question,” Blake pointed out.  “I’m just answering it.  I never wanted any man but Adam, not like that!  And it’s not that we don’t have sex, ‘cause we do, and it’s fantastic…”

            “Oversharing!”

            Blake chuckled.  “You wanted to know how I ended up married to Adam?  Truth is, it’s a long story.  We were good friends, I thought everything was fine, and then he had to go and ruin it by telling me he was in love with me.”

            Dean froze.  “What did you do?”

            Blake suddenly looked ten years older.  “Same thing you would have done, I imagine.  I cursed him, threw him out, and told him not to come near me ever again!”

            Dean winced.  “Damn!”

            “Yeah.  And at first, I was just pissed off.  I was upset he’d ruined our relationship like that, and I didn’t want anything more to do with him.  But I still had to work with the little bastard.  And ‘The Voice’ was real popular.  We had a lot of fans who were really into the whole bromance thing with me and Adam.  People wanted to see us joke and fight with each other, and they still wanted to see him sit in my lap.  So even after that, we still had to paste on our smiles and fake it for the cameras.”

            “Tough times,” Dean noted, sympathetic.

            “Some of the worst.  And I realized something.  That old saying, ‘fake it ‘till you make it?’  It’s actually true.  While I was pretending to like Adam, I realized that I actually did.  Nothing had really changed between us except for me.  Adam was a little sadder, but he was still the same guy, you know?  I was the one who was pushing him away!  And I missed the little shit.  I missed the hell out of him.  And I finally realized something.  I was shallow!  All my life, I’d only ever been attracted to women, because I’d only ever been aroused by women’s bodies.  But there ain’t any kind of real relationship that can come of nothing but physical attraction.  You know how they say beauty is only skin deep?  It’s what’s inside that matters.  And what was inside Adam, who he was, and how he made me feel anytime he was around?  That meant more to me than a set of tits and a vulva ever could!”

            Dean was listening intently, leaning forward in his seat.  “So, what, you let him come back?”

            “Hell, I came crawling back to him, hat in hand, asking for forgiveness.  And he gave it!  One of the many reasons I love him.”  Blake smiled.  “I do love him, Dean.  What can I say?  I love him!”

            “Even though you weren’t physically attracted to him?”

            “Well, it didn’t hurt that Adam’s a beautiful man,” Blake admitted.  “It was a bit strange, at first.  Different.  But once we got past that?  It’s been great, Dean.  Better than anything I could have ever hoped for!  Now, I consider Adam the best thing that ever happened in my life.  And I wouldn’t trade that cocky Rockstar for anything!”

            Dean smiled.  “Thanks for sharing that with me, Blake.”

            “No problem, buddy!”

            The two ate in silence for a time.  Over the speakers in the diner, the radio was playing.  Dean brightened, recognizing a familiar tune.  _“Desperado,”_ he sang along softly.  _“Why don’t you come to your senses?  You’ve been out riding fences for so long now!  Oh, you’re a hard one!  I know that you’ve got your reasons.  These things that are pleasing you can hurt you somehow.”_

            “You really do got a voice on you, Dean!” Blake noted.  The cowboy had stopped eating and was listening with obvious interest.  “Fitting song for you, too.”

            “It’s the Eagles, man!” Dean replied, pleased.  “Classic rock!”

            “That it is.  But maybe you should listen to the words a bit more?”

            Dean frowned at that.  “What do you mean?”

            “I mean listen to the words!”  Blake started singing.  _“Desperado, oh you ain’t getting no younger.  Your pain and your hunger, they’re driving you home.  Freedom, oh, freedom, well that’s just some people talking.  Your prison is walking through this world all alone!”_

            “I ain’t alone!” Dean retorted, stung.

            Blake only hummed.  Then he returned to the song.  _“Don't your feet get cold in the winter time when the sky won't snow and the sun won't shine, and it's hard to tell the night time from the day?”_

            Dean rolled his eyes and joined in.  _“You're losing all your highs and lows.  Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away?”_

            Blake winked at him.  _“Desperado, why don’t you come to your senses?”_

            Emboldened, Dean sang with him.  _“Come down from your fences.  Open the gate!  It may be raining, but there’s a rainbow above you.  You better let somebody love you.  Let somebody love you, better let somebody love you, before it’s too late!”_

            It wasn’t until applause broke out all around them that Dean realized how loud the two of them had gotten in their singing.  Dean flushed crimson and hunched down in the booth.  But Blake, naturally, smiled, stood up, and gave a little bow.  “Thank you, thank you!” he called.  “Tip your waitress!”

            That earned him more cheers from the waitresses.  Blake bowed once more towards them and sat down.  He was grinning broadly.  But his grin faltered and his eyes widened when a dark-haired man came over to their table.

            “Excuse me,” the man said.  “You gentlemen from the area?”

            “Just for a little while,” Blake replied.  He was staring at the man as if he’d seen a ghost.

            “Well, I happen to be hosting a singing competition this weekend,” the man explained.  He handed Blake a flier.  “Are you familiar with Adam Levine?”

            “Yeah, we’re fans,” Dean said.  His eyes were on Blake, who was looking at the flier now.  The big man’s face had noticeably paled.

            “Well, I’m glad to hear that!” the man announced.  “Because the grand prize is the opportunity to come up on stage at Adam’s concert and sing a duet with him!  Interested?”

            “Hell yes!” Dean exclaimed.  He grinned at Blake.  “Save yourself the time and effort and just give Blake his golden ticket right now!”

            The man laughed.  “Confident!  I like that!”  He smiled, his blue eyes moving to Blake.  “So I can count on the two of you in the contest?”

            Dean blinked.  “Wait, the two of...?”

            “Absolutely!” Blake declared, seeming to come back to life.  “Is there an entry form for this contest we need to fill out?”

            “Just fill out the bottom of that flier with both of your names and contact information,” the man instructed, apparently oblivious to Dean’s sputtering.  “We’re looking for some good singers, and from what I’ve heard, you certainly fit the bill!  You’ll have to audition, and I know it’s short notice, but with your voices, I don’t think it will be a problem.  I’ll even pull a few strings and get you both in the same day!”

            Blake smiled up at the man.  “Thanks a lot, Carson!  Really appreciate it!”

            Carson’s eyebrows shot up.  “Oh, you’ve heard of me?  I’ve got a radio show, but I don’t usually get recognized by out-of-towners!”

            “Well, that’s you on this flier, I assume?” Blake said, not missing a beat.  “Carson Daly?  Dean and I will be there!”

            Carson laughed again.  “Alright, Dean and, Blake, was it?  See you at the contest!”

            Dean sputtered again.  “But I...!”  Too late.  Daly was walking away, and Blake was already borrowing a pen from a waitress to start filling out the form.  “Dude!” Dean protested.  “I can’t enter a singing contest!”

            “Why not?”

            Dean gaped at Blake, who hadn’t looked up from the flier.  “Because I’m not a country singer!  Only thing I know about it is what I’ve learned from Bobby!”

            “Oh, it’s not just country music.”  Blake indicated the flier.  “See, it’s all genres, including rock, R+B, soul, and folk!  Sounds like classic rock’s in the mix!”

            “Oh, come on!” Dean groaned.  “You cannot be serious about this!  Me in a singing contest?  Get real!”

            “I already told you that I was gonna give you some vocal coaching,” Blake insisted.  “Why not start now?  Two of us in the contest means two chances to win, right?  What have we got to lose?”

            “Dude, I can’t sing in this contest, are you nuts?!”  Dean’s voice was nearly a squeak.

            “Bullshit.”  Blake continued to fill out the form.  “I picked and coached singers on national television, Dean.  I know a good voice when I hear it!  Carson is the host of that same show, and he knows a good voice when he hears it, too.  We both think you’ve got a real chance in this contest, so trust us!  Now, what do you want your last name to be?  Given your criminal history, I’m ssuming you don’t want me to put ‘Winchester’ down here.”

            “There is no way in hell I am doing this, Blake!” Dean declared.  “I cannot sing in a singing contest!”

            Blake’s blue eyes were suddenly hard.  “Yes you can, Dean.  And you will!  This is a pretty damned big coincidence, don’t you think?  That Carson Daly, one of my best friends from my world, just offered us a chance to enter a singing contest where the grand prize is a duet with the man I’m married to back home?  Because I don’t buy that!  I don’t know what you believe in, Dean, but it seems to me that we are finally getting a little help from above!”

            “Dude, the angels wouldn’t...!”

            “I was thinking just a skooch higher than angels, Dean.  Now you said this Chuck guy who wrote about you was a prophet, right?  Well, if he’s a prophet, then it would appear you and your brother have drawn the attention of the Almighty!”  Blake solemnly pointed up.  “And maybe, just maybe, He decided that we’ve been kicked around long enough and it was time to step in!  We got this opportunity handed to us on a silver platter!  And I’ll be damned if we’re gonna let it slip by!”  Blake held the pen over the flier and smirked at Dean.  “Now I’m fairly certain you don’t want to use your real name, so come up with something else, or I’ll make a name up for you I guarantee you won’t care for!”

            Dean froze, staring mutely at Blake.

            Blake chuckled.  “Dean, listen to me, ok?  I have been in the music business my entire adult life.  And for the past half a dozen or so years, I have been judging people on the basis of vocal talent in front of an international audience.  I did it for thirteen seasons, and I have won more times than any other coach on that show!  I’m telling you, I know vocal talent when I hear it.  And I hear it in you!”  Blake reached across and gripped Dean’s arm.  “You can sing, Dean!  You need a little work, but you’ve got a good tone and I like what I hear in your voice.  You can do this.  I’ll help you!  And I’m good at this whole vocal coaching thing, alright?  I’ve won six times!”

            Dean didn’t move.

            Blake’s smile grew soft.  “Dean, I trusted you when you showed me what to do on that hunt.  Now it’s your turn.  You can do this, if you let yourself.  Come on, buddy!  What do you say?  You took me on a hunt and showed me what you do best.  Now will you give me a chance to show you what it is that I can do?”

            Dean stared a little longer.  Then he mutely nodded.  “Ok,” he managed.

            Blake beamed.  “You won’t regret it,” he promised.  “Win or lose, you’re going to be great!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun groaned when he realized it was Carson, said “I should have known.” Thinks Dean should sing “Eye Of The Tiger.”
> 
> Trivia Time!
> 
> Jensen Ackles (Dean) is co-owner of a craft beer store in Austin Texas called “Family Business.” Blake Shelton is associated with another small American brewery called “Smithworks Vodka.”


	15. Singing Contest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean faces his greatest, most terrifying challenge yet - a singing contest!

            Dean had come face to face with his own death numerous times.  He’d been torn apart by hellhounds and dragged down to Hell, where he’d stayed for the subjective equivalent of forty years, until he’d finally broken under the torture.  That experience had become his personal standard for Worst It Could Possibly Be.  In contrast, waiting backstage for his turn to take the stage and compete in a vocal contest couldn’t even come close.  But right now, Dean was having difficulty convincing his heart of that.  It was pounding in his chest.  He couldn’t stop shaking.  And worse, Sammy, who had packed up his research and come up to help with Levine, had showed up last night and was now in attendance.  Those two overly-tall bastards were out there right now, seated in the audience, waiting for Dean to come out and fall flat on his face.  _How in the Hell did I let myself get roped into this?!_

            Well, at least he was going out before Blake.  Dean pitied whatever poor soul had to follow that honey-voiced cowboy.

            Dean thought back over the last couple of days.  Dean had been puzzled as to why, exactly, Blake wanted Dean in this concert anyway?  He was flattered that Blake was taking the time with him, but it was obvious Dean’s ability would never match Blake’s.  It confused Dean, until he thought about what he’d do if he wasn’t participating in the contest.  Then he understood.  Blake had roped Dean into this because otherwise, Dean would have felt useless and gone stir crazy.  That was touching.  Blake had picked up on Dean’s need to be involved and had effortlessly included him, even when Dean couldn’t imagine he had any chance in this contest.

            Still, it did seem as if Blake really did feel there was something to Dean’s voice.  Blake had a way of smiling that set Dean at ease, helped him forget his own anxiety and focus on the lesson.  Blake was spending hours working with Dean, running him through various vocal exercises and helping him with songs.  And Blake, Dean had to admit, was a great vocal coach.  Dean hadn’t realized that there could be more to singing than simply belting out a song in the car.  But Blake had a real ear for vocal performance.  He’d spent the last few days teaching Dean about breath control, the difference between chest and head voice, flourishes, and how to make a song his own, rather than simply echoing the original artist.  For the first time, Dean was really thinking about songs and focusing on the little tricks he could recognize in the voices of the artists he was listening to.  He found himself practicing scales and flourishes in the shower, or even while he was going about his day to day activities.

            He’d also learned to harmonize with Blake.  Dean had to admit, that was his favorite part.  Blake had told Dean that he had a lot of natural power behind his voice.  He’d also explained that Dean’s voice had a quality he called “grit” that made it ideal for the rock music Dean preferred.  Dean had basked under the compliments and attention the big man was showering on him in the few days leading up to the contest.  He’d worked hard to earn Blake’s approval, following the cowboy around like a lost puppy to soak up every bit of musical knowledge Blake had to give him.  And by the time he’d rehearsed for Blake and Sammy last night in their hotel room, Blake had pronounced him ready for the contest.

            Ironically, he’d not heard Blake sing at all, outside of practicing with Dean.  But the name he’d chosen on their official entry form, “Blake Williams,” made Dean suspect Blake would be singing “Cowboy Bill.”  Fitting.  For his part, Dean had considered the usual rock star names he used when he was playing FBI agent during a hunt.  Then he’d chickened out and went with “Dean Smith.”  Good enough.

            As he’d said he would, Carson Daly had pulled some strings.  Blake had told Dean that Daly was one of his best friends in the other world, but here, naturally, Daly had no idea who Blake was.  It hadn’t mattered.  Once Blake turned on the full force of that Southern charm, few could resist him.  Daly’s influence got them in on the same day.  And the way Blake smiled and spoke politely to the organizers at the audition ensured that the two of them would audition one after the other.

            Dean came to learn that over a hundred people had tried to get in to only thirty auditions.  They were awarded through a special lottery, except for a few exclusive invitations which included their own.  Dean had to admit, the two of them had been more than just lucky.  If it hadn’t been for Daly’s influence, Blake might have never even gotten a chance to audition.  And now they both had that opportunity.  Only ten singers out of the thirty who auditioned would get to sing in front of Adam Levine.  There was no doubt Blake would be one of them.  But what about Dean?  Dean had no way to know if his voice really was as naturally good as Blake claimed, or if Blake was only trying to stay on his good side.  But suddenly he was auditioning, and about to find out.

            Singing acapella in front of the four judges in a closed room had been nerve wracking.  A week before, Dean would have thought ‘acapella’ was a fancy overpriced coffee for douche bags.  Still, Dean thought he’d done a decent job.  The judges, apparently, agreed.  He’d nearly screamed and danced a jig when the list of those who’d made it into the contest appeared and Dean saw his own name.  But while Blake had smiled, he’d seemed oddly subdued.  Well, there’d been no doubt Blake would make it through.  After all, Daly was a judge, and he’d fallen in love with Blake’s voice right from the start, to the point where he’d signed them both up with zero effort from Dean.  But Dean still would have expected Blake to be a bit happier.  Sammy was acting a bit weird as well, being extra attentive to Blake.  What was going on?

            Then Dean realized what had been obvious to Sammy.  Adam Levine was judging this contest.  Blake was about to see a man who would be an exact match for his husband, but who would have no idea who Blake was.  Ouch.  Dean resolved to be nicer to Blake.  The big guy would need support through this.

            But now that Dean was here, about to step out on stage and actually _sing_ in front of a packed house, Dean didn’t care anymore who the celebrity judges were.  Right about now, he could have cheerfully strangled Blake for getting him into this mess.

            And suddenly the crowd was cheering for the last singer before Dean, Daly was taking the stage, and Dean was out of time.  “Up next with a blast from the past, a classic from the big 80’s,” Daly announced.  “Put your hands together for Dean Smith!”

            “Son of a bitch!” Dean whimpered.  He froze for a moment and had to force himself to move forward.  His back was ramrod straight, but his lips were numb.  He felt stiff and heavy, half in a daze.  It felt as if there were a million eyes watching him as he somehow made his way to the waiting microphone.  Even it seemed to be staring at him, the unblinking eye accusing him for being an outsider, an imposter.  Dean would rather face twenty wendigos, twelve vampires, six werewolves and a rugaru than pick up that microphone.  The lights on the stage were unnaturally bright, seeming to scald him.  Sweat poured from his pores.  There wasn’t enough air.  _I can’t do this!  Sing in front of all these people?!  This is insane!_

            “Alright, Dean!”

            Sammy, bellowing from somewhere in the crowd.  Why the hell did he have to be out there to see this?  Thank God Bobby couldn’t make it.  But it didn’t make much difference.  Dean could barely see anyone with the bright lights of the stage in his face.  He reached for the microphone, but his hand shook so much he dropped it.  It fell to the ground, producing a whine of feedback and laughter from the crowd.

            Dean froze in horror, staring at the microphone on the floor of the stage.  All he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.  His vision swam.  He was going to pass out, right there on stage!  He was going to die of a heart attack or a stroke!  He imagined the obituary.  _Dean Winchester, the hunter who went to Hell, stopped the apocalypse, and saved the world, died today of stage fright on a Nashville stage…_

            Suddenly a hand was holding the microphone up to him.  Dean blinked and saw a set of twinkling blue eyes above a dimpled grin.  “Think you dropped something, buddy,” Blake called.

            “Th-thanks,” Dean stuttered. 

            He took the microphone, and for a moment, just after letting Dean take hold of it, Blake’s hand slid up to close briefly over Dean’s.  The big man gave Dean just the barest of nods.  One eye winked.  “You got this,” Blake said softly.

            Dean nodded.  He stood up, cleared his throat.  Then he nodded for his music to start.

            Blake had told him that stepping out on stage and starting was the worst part.  Check.  Dean didn’t feel much better once the music started.  But at least the crowd got into it right away, recognizing the famous opening rift immediately.  A roar of approval went up.  People were already into the song, and Dean had yet to sing a note.  Alright, then.  Focus, remember what Blake said.  Breath control.  Watch pitch.  Tap a foot or a finger to keep time so he didn’t rush the phrasing.  Rushing was something he’d had trouble with on this song.  Wait.  Wait.

            Now.

            _“_ _Rising up, back on the street.  Did my time, took my chances.  Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet just a man and his will to survive!”_

            And just like that, Dean’s fear vanished.  This was a song Dean felt a personal connection to.  The lyrics, after all, could have been about a hunter just as easily as a boxer.  It was like the million times over a million miles that he’d belted this song into his steering wheel.  But somehow, this was better.  Here, on this stage, he was the center of attention.  And the crowd was into it.  He could see dancing bodies, hear voices singing along with the familiar lyrics.  People were having fun!  They were listening to him sing, and they were enjoying it!

            _“So many times, it happens too fast, you change your passion for glory,”_ Dean sang, getting into it at last.  _“Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past!  You must fight just to keep them alive!  It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight rising up to the challenge of our rival!  And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night.  And he's watching us all with the eye of the tiger!”_

__

            The crowd roared in approval, and Dean finally relaxed.  His tapping foot turned into a shaking leg, which eventually led to pacing in time to the music.  And then he was practically dancing, moving back and forth along the stage, letting his natural showmanship shine through.  But even as he enjoyed himself, Dean kept Blake’s lessons firmly in mind.  He took a few chances, adding his own touches here and there while still keeping to the spirit of the song.  And by the time he reached the final chorus, he was ready.  He focused on his breathing, getting plenty of air.  Then he hit it from his diaphragm, holding the big note near the end and letting it ring out.  “ _And he's watching us all with the eeeeeeeeyyyyyyyye!”_   Pause.  _“Of the tiger!”_

            Perfect.  He could see Blake and Sammy now, right up front, wearing matching grins and on their feet, cheering and pumping their fists as Dean finished the song to thunderous applause.  Blake let loose with a cowboy yell, while Sammy jumped up and down, his long hair flying.  Dean had a grin of his own as he took a bow, shook hands with Daly, and went off the stage.  He had as much adrenaline in his system right now as he’d had on a hunt!

            Sammy appeared and glomped him, pounding on his back.  “That was awesome!” he cheered.  “Dude, you looked like a friggin’ rock star up there!”

            “Nice job, buddy!” Blake added, moving up for a hug of his own.  “A little rough in the beginning there, had some pitch issues those first few phrases.  Nerves, I imagine.  But you really came back strong, and that ending, _whew!_   I think you and that little blonde who was on just before you are gonna be the ones to beat.”

            Dean scoffed.  “Oh come on!  Like anyone here has a chance to beat you!”

            Blake only shrugged and headed backstage with his guitar case.

            Sammy gripped Dean’s arm and dragged him back to the seats.  There, he pointed at a dark-haired man in a suit who sat at a table with Carson Daly, watching the next act and taking careful notes.  “That’s him,” Sammy told Dean.  “Adam Levine.”

            “That’s Blake’s husband in the other world?”  Dean eyed the man.  Levine was, he had to admit, extremely good-looking.  The country star was focused on the performer currently on stage, his hazel eyes flicking between the singer and his notes.  Dean thought he looked a bit scrawny.  The little bastard needed to eat more.  And the suit made him look like a stiff.  Dean supposed it was good that he looked nice for Blake, but Blake wasn’t really a suit kind of guy.  Well, he’d love Blake.  He’d better!  If the son of a bitch said one thing to hurt Blake’s feelings, Dean had every intention of punching him right in his pretty face.

            Ok, so he was being irrationally overprotective.  Blake had come to mean a lot to him, so was it so bad he wanted the best for big cowboy?

            “I’m fully aware you were probably not paying one bit of attention when you came in,” Sammy was saying, “but seeing him hit Blake pretty hard, Dean.  For a long time until you came out, he just sat here staring at the guy.  It wasn’t until you got up on stage that Blake kind of snapped out of it.  But I don’t know what he’s going to do when he’s on stage.”

            “Oh shit.  Think I should go back there, see if I can prop him up a bit?”

            “I don’t think you’ve got time, Dean.”

            “Dammit!”  Dean scanned his program.  “When’s he coming out?”

            “Well, he’s next after this lady, and she’s just finished, so...  Right now!”

            “Uh oh!”

            Sure enough, Blake was being introduced next.  “Our next performer has a special treat for us tonight,” Daly announced.  “He’s gonna sing and play an original song!  Claims it’s his signature song.  Give it up for Blake Williams!”

            Dean snickered.  Well, he supposed if no one knew the song but Blake, he could get away with calling it original, and for as long as he’d let them call him “Cowboy Bill,” Blake could certainly consider it his “signature song.”  He clapped and whistled when Blake came out on stage.  Luckily, Blake looked fairly relaxed.  Good, hopefully he’d stay that way.  He was wearing his boots, like always, but Dean was disappointed that Blake wasn’t wearing his cowboy hat.  But Blake didn’t need it, did he?  He was a cowboy through and through, no matter what he wore!  Dean grinned, leaning forward and feeling proud and slightly possessive as Blake started to play.  _That’s my cowboy up there!_ he thought as he looked smugly around at the crowd.  _Get ready, boys and girls!  You’re in for the treat of the night!_

            But to his surprise, the song Blake sang wasn’t “Cowboy Bill” at all.  It was a song Dean had never heard before.

            _“Well, I caught my wife with another man, and it cost me ninety-nine on a prison farm in Georgia, close to the Florida line.  Well, I'd been here for two long years and I finally made the warden my friend.  And so he sentenced me to a life of ease taking care of Ol’ Red.  Now, Ol' Red, he's the damnedest dog that I've ever seen.  Got a nose that can smell a two day trail, he's a four-legged tracking machine!  You can consider yourself mighty lucky to get past the gators and the quicksand beds, but all these years that I've been here, ain't nobody got past Red!  And the warden sang, ‘Come on, somebody, why don't you run?  Ol' Red's itchin' to have a little fun!  Get my lantern, get my gun, Red'll have you treed ‘fore the mornin' comes!’”_

__

            Blake’s honey-smooth voice captivated the crowd, and Dean happily fell in.  Bobby, he decided, would have loved this song.  A song about cheating wives, prison, and dogs, how country could you get?  All Blake needed was a pick-up and some beer to make it complete!

            But as Blake’s song went on, going into how he’d gotten a cousin to bring down a female dog, Dean started feeling anxious.  Surely Blake was not going to go where he thought he was going in this song?

            Blake did.  Dean listened in dismay as the song described how Blake’s clever plan paid off when the warden’s prize tracking dog was distracted by the female.  _“Well, I made my run with the evening sun, and I smiled when I heard 'em turn Red out, 'cause I was headed north to Tennessee, and Ol' Red was headed south!”_

            The crowd laughed, and Dean cringed.  But Blake simply kept going, topping the whole disaster off with the final line.  _“Now there's red-haired blue ticks all in the South!  Love got me in here, and love got me out!”_

            More laughter, followed by cheers and applause.  Well, at least the crowd appreciated the song.  So did his idiot brother.  Sammy was grinning ear to ear and laughing as he clapped.  But Dean was mortified.  Dog sex.  Winning this stupid contest was their best chance at getting to Levine, and what did Blake choose to sing about?  Dog sex!

            But when Dean glanced at Levine, the famous country singer was laughing and clapping along with everyone else.  Dean dared to hope.  Maybe they might salvage something from this after all?  Country music fans were a weird bunch.  But Dean had no intention of letting Blake off easy.  He glared daggers at Blake when the big man came ambling back, guitar case in hand.  “Dog sex?” Dean challenged.  “Really?  You must know a million country songs, and you had to sing one about dog sex?!”

            “Like Carson said, it’s my signature song,” Blake replied cheerfully.  “I even have a restaurant and bar under that name!  And Adam always liked it, as much as he pretended not to.”

            “This version of him seemed to like it, too,” Sammy noted.  “But you were the last singer, Blake.  And it looks like they’re ready to announce the winner!”

            Sure enough, Daly had taken the stage once more, Levine at his side holding a little trophy.  “Ladies and gentlemen, we have your winners,” he declared.  “In third place, winner of a $100 gas card, Dean Smith!”

            Blake gave his cowboy whoop again, and Sammy pounced on Dean.  “Dean!” Sammy screamed.  “That’s you!  You came in third!”

            “Wha?”  Dean was in a daze.  He sat there stupidly until Sammy and Blake physically pulled him out of his seat and pushed him towards the stage.  There, Levine handed him a gas card and the trophy and shook his hand while a camera flashed.  Dean clutched at his prizes.  A trophy!  Dean had just won a trophy!  He’d never won a trophy in his life, mostly because he never stayed in one place long enough to join any sort of team even if he’d wanted to.  And a gas card, perfect!  Much as he loved his Baby, she was hard on gas.  Dean was grinning like a fool, standing where he was directed with his eyes on the trophy.  It gleamed in his hands.  He couldn’t wait to get it back to his room at the bunker!  Wait until he showed it to Cass!  Cass would…

            Reality hit like a physical blow, knocking Dean out of his stupor.  He couldn’t show Cass anything.  Because Cass wasn’t here.  Because Cass was trapped in the same world Blake had come from.

            But maybe now, they were making progress towards correcting that?

            Dean paid attention again.  The blonde Blake had mentioned had come in second, with a bigger trophy than Dean’s.  Dean didn’t care.  He clutched his little trophy protectively to his chest and eyed Levine.  The man was close to Dean’s height, but thinner.  Dean was fairly sure he could handle him.  And Dean already knew he’d have to be the one to handle him, in the likely event things escalated into a physical confrontation.  As usual, Dean had to be the bad guy.  But really, who else could do it?  Blake couldn’t be expected to put his hands on someone who looked so much like his husband!  And Sammy needed to be apart enough to be able to play his usual “good cop” role.  Fine.  One of them could hold his trophy, and if anything happened to it, Dean was kicking someone’s ass.

            But now, Levine had the biggest trophy.  Dean listened with no surprise at all as Blake’s name was called.  Dean cheered loudly, watching as the big cowboy came up on the stage and shook hands with Levine.  Blake’s blue eyes looked wistful, but the dimples flashed.  “Your hand is so soft,” Blake noted.  “You ever do a day of work in your life?”

            Levine laughed with the crowd and pumped Blake’s hand.  “Great song, buddy.  See you tomorrow, nine am sharp.  We gotta rehearse for our duet!”

            Blake’s smile rivaled the sun.  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr Fun groaned and announced he knew Blake was gonna sing “Ol’ Red.” Thought Dean should have played his leg like he did in the “Supernatural” outtake.
> 
> This is the outtake in question:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HsyMtYoSkC0
> 
> And as a bonus, here is the actor actually singing a little bit of the song!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GWzYlnIwsZQ
> 
> Here's Blake's "Ol' Red." Check out that hair!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=asxrMSVrJ08
> 
> Blake does indeed call this his signature song, and has a bar by the same name!  
> http://www.olered.com/tishomingo/
> 
> And since I forgot to include them last chapter, here's Jensen's Family Business and Blake's Smithworks!  
> https://familybusinessbeerco.com  
> http://www.smithworksvodka.com


	16. The Tattooed Country Singer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake and the brothers head in to meet Adam Levine, but Crowley isn't giving up without a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I wrote this to is "Duck And Run" by Three Doors Down  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0PC9VYjc9I
> 
> Sorry for advancing the chapter count, but this chapter gave me so much trouble I ended up dividing it in half. Hopefully the end results are worth extending the count!

            Blake was able to charm his way into bringing Dean and Sam into the studio with him when he went for rehearsal.  Part of him regretted that he wouldn’t actually get to do the duet with Adam – with _Levine,_ this wasn’t Adam! – at the end of the week, but it was past time they got things in motion.  Seeing Levine had brought that home.  To see this man who looked so much like the man he loved, to shake his hand and look into those hazel eyes without seeing a single trace of welcome or even recognition?  That had been every bit as hard as he’d been trying to brace for.  Last night, Blake had made it back to the motel room and simply collapsed.  And to his surprise, it was Dean, rather than Sammy, who had brought him back, sitting with Blake and softly talking to him until Blake got himself together again.

            Now Blake had to keep it together.  Despite sleeping soundly all night, Blake felt as if he hadn’t slept a wink.  He pushed aside his fatigue.  Lately, it was a constant companion anyway.  He’d had another spell this morning.  Once again, the world and gone grey and he’d almost fallen over when he stood up.  Fortunately, neither of the brothers had noticed.  It seemed to be getting worse, hitting faster and lasting longer every time it happened.  But Blake had bigger concerns right now.  Adam, his Adam, was still waiting for him.  Blake needed to get home, and Levine was his best chance.  Blake was relieved that he’d found Carson as well.  If something went wrong with Levine, he could fall back to Carson.  But Adam had a far greater chance of being close to Cass, and Cass was the one who needed to get their message.

            Besides, there was no way Blake was going to pass up the opportunity to see his husband.  Even if Levine wasn’t really his husband, it had finally hit Blake that, if the spell worked, he’d see Adam.  _His_ Adam, here!  No matter how short the time might be, he’d get to see Adam again.  For that, Blake was willing to do whatever it took.

            The brothers were bracing for battle.  They were loaded down with various weaponry that would probably get all three of them arrested if it was found.  Along with his pistol, Blake was packing a set of brass knuckles, an odd, runed knife Dean referred to as “Ruby’s fucking knife,” and some holy water.  Each of the brothers had an angel blade, a pistol, and a few other items capable of doing damage to demons.  Dean was also carrying a set of handcuffs, rope, and duct tape.  Blake couldn’t imagine using them on Levine, but he understood the need to bring them.  They needed Levine, and one way or another, the tattooed country singer was going back to the bunker with them.  Dean had already informed him that if this required Levine to be flat-out kidnapped, then that was what they would do.  Blake hated the idea, but what choice did they have?  They couldn’t risk Crowley’s goons getting to Levine and spiriting him off.  The rehearsal today was their best and only chance.  It was now or never.

            Still, Blake hoped Levine would come along willingly.  Meeting him last night had done a lot to ease Blake’s mind.  After all the negative things he’d learned about this world’s version of his husband, he’d been worried.  Levine had seemed like a real piece of work, someone Blake not only wouldn’t love, but might not even like in this world!  But apparently, the press was just as bad about blowing things out of proportion or reporting stupid untrue bullshit here as it was in his world.  Levine had certainly seemed like a decent guy last night!

            Blake had given a lot of thought to what he would say to Levine.  Of course, he had no way to prove his outrageous story.  Or maybe he did?  Having someone around like Cass had probably spoiled the Winchesters.  For Blake, seeing Dean’s angel instantly heal himself right in front of him in his living room had settled the question early on of exactly what Cass was.  Seeing him toss furniture around had added credibility, and when he’d cast his spell that had sealed it.  Was that something he could do?  Have the brothers cast some sort of spell, or demonstrate some magical object or something?  Whatever it took.  Blake was anxious to get started.

            Things went bad almost immediately.

            The first sign of trouble came about when a frazzled-looking woman bustled up to Blake.  “I’m Jennifer Devon, Mr. Levine’s personal assistant,” she announced without so much as a hello.  “A few ground rules.  Don’t speak to Mr. Levine unless spoken to.  Don’t joke with him.  I understand you made a joke when you first met him?  Don’t ever do it again, he didn’t find it funny at all.”

            “He laughed!” Blake protested, shocked.

            “It was in public.  Trust me, he didn’t laugh once he was in private.  Several fragile, expensive objects paid the price, and a hairstylist lost her job.  Moving on.  Don’t make any suggestions as to song choice or how to perform it.  All such decisions will be made exclusively by Mr. Levine.  Do not touch Mr. Levine.  Do not ask for pictures or autographs.  And most importantly, did you really think it would be this easy to get to him?  You’re clever, I’ll give you that.  But the King of Hell is perfectly aware that you are a country singer, Mr. Shelton.  This contest was the easiest way to lure you out.  It wasn’t hard to guess you’d be in that diner and arrange for Mr. Daly to run into you.  But several people lost their jobs before we could convince Levine that this contest was his idea to try to salvage a bit of his image!”

            Blake blinked and stiffened when Jennifer’s eyes suddenly went black.  “Son of a bitch,” he swore, sensing the brothers moving closer to him.

            “As you were already informed, one way or another, every member of Levine’s staff is under Crowley’s control,” she explained.  “Really, this is just too easy!  All three of you just walked right in!  And you’re rapidly running out of time, especially you, Mr. Shelton!  Or haven’t you figured out yet just what that naughty little angel of yours has done?”  Her eyebrows raised.  “Oh!  You haven’t, have you?  Of course he never told you, so how could you know?  And in his defense, he never expected Mr. Shelton here to have to pay the price he’d agreed to!”

            “Where the hell is Williams?” Levine’s voice yelled from the next room.  “Jenny, would you please get that asshole in here?  I’m on a schedule, dammit!”

            Jennifer suddenly looked annoyed.  “And I thought Hell was bad!  Go ahead in, say hello.  You won’t get anywhere with him.  And I’ll be right there to…”

            She suddenly screamed, light shining from her eyes and mouth and somehow shining through her skin.  Blake blinked at Dean, who pulled a familiar silver dagger out of the woman’s side and let her body collapse to the ground.  “Sammy, let’s get ready to rumble,” Dean ordered.  “I knew this wasn’t going to be easy!”

            “Never is,” Sam grumbled.  He stepped forward, angel blade in hand.  “Blake, you with us, buddy?”

            Blake nodded.  He quickly drew his gun, saw Dean shake his head, and replaced it with Ruby’s Fucking Knife.  He swallowed hard.  “I gotta knife people?”

            “Sorry, buddy, but that or the angel blades are the best way to take out these demons,” Dean explained.  “We really wanted to try to avoid a bloodbath.  But if Crowley already knows we’re here, this is going to get real interesting real fast!  You’re going to have to help us, Blake.  I’m sorry.”

            Blake nodded and got a better grip on the knife.  His heart was pounding.  “This stupid tattoo y’all made me get on my chest keeps these things from possessing me, right?”

            “The one on your left, yes,” Sammy confirmed, stepping forward.  “And the one on the right hides you from angels.”

            “Still amazed I need something like that,” Blake grumbled.  “But what about Levine?  What’s keeping these bastards from jumping into him?”

            “If he’s not possessed already, I have no doubt they’ll try it,” Dean told him.  The green eyes were serious.  “But we can yank those smoky bastards right back out, ok?  Levine will be alright.”

            “If you could yank them out, then why the fuck didn’t you do it with her?” Blake wanted to know, pointing at the woman’s body.

            “It takes time, time we don’t have,” Dean explained.

            “No way to do it fast?”

            “Not anymore.”  Sam had an odd expression on his face.  “And believe me, the price of that particular ability is not worth it!”  He took in Blake’s expression and gave him a nod.  “You can do this,” he assured.  “Just do what you have to do to defend yourself, Blake.  Dean and I will handle the rest.”

            Blake was positive he did not like the sound of that.  But what choice did he have?  He nodded, tried to compose himself, and hid the knife like he saw the brothers doing with their angel blades.  Now he understood why Cass had his in a wrist sheath.  That must be handy.  Well, he’d manage somehow.  Blake took a deep breath, regained his composure.  Then he headed in to Levine.

            There were over half a dozen people in the room with Levine, every one of whom was probably a demon.  And Levine himself was busy berating a young woman who had apparently managed to spill his coffee.  “Holy fuck!” he exclaimed.  “Are you my affirmative action hire or something?  Did I hire the fucking handicapped here?  You damned near spilled that coffee right into my lap!  What are you trying to do, burn the hair off my nuts?!”

            “I’m very sorry Mr. Levine!”

            “You’re very sorry.  Let me tell you how sorry you’d have been if you’d burned me with that coffee!  If you didn’t have nice tits, I’d fire your ass right here and now!  Now clean up this mess and get me another cup of coffee!  I’ll only drink a full cup, not one you spilled.  And make it decaf, for fuck’s sake!  Last thing I need is caffeine interacting with my ADHD meds.  And bring me a Danish!  Strawberry, don’t bring me those nasty ones you brought last time!”  Irritated hazel eyes found Blake as the woman hurried away.  The eyes rolled and then went meaningfully to his watch.  “It’s 9am, Williams!” he informed Blake.  “We were supposed to start rehearsing at 9am.  That means you get your ass here by at least 8:30, so you’re settled in, I can tell you what to do, and we can start actually fucking rehearsing at 9am!  But that isn’t the point, is it?  We have a deal to discuss, don’t we?”

            Blake’s heart sank.  He’d suspected, just hearing the way Levine was berating his staff, that his husband’s double was possessed by a demon.  Hearing him speak of their deal confirmed it.  The brothers had fanned out, guarding Blake and taking stock of the room.  “Guys?” he called gently.

            “Just defend yourself,” Dean reminded.  “We’ll do the rest.”

            “We got your back, Blake,” Sam assured.

            “Whoa, whoa, what the fuck is this?”  Levine was storming over, scowling fiercely as he looked at the brothers.  “Did you bring your fucking fan club, Williams?  Who the hell let them in?!”

            “It’s perfect,” the woman who’d spilled his coffee corrected.  “Now we’ve got all three of them right where we want them!”

            Levine whirled on her.  “Excuse me?!”

            But her eyes had already turned black.  “The only one we need alive is the cowboy!  Get them!”

            Oh shit.

            The brothers immediately went into action, putting their backs to each other and Blake, swinging, slashing, and stabbing for all they were worth.  Screams and shrieks rang out.  Light blazed.  The coffee lady raced at Blake and Blake lunged with his knife, stabbing forward instinctively.  The blade went in with sickening ease and the black eyes blazed.  The weight of her body nearly tore the weapon from Blake’s hand as she fell.  And then another was coming after him.  Blake shoved his hand into the brass knuckles in his pocket and then swung out his fist, knocking the man back.  He followed up with the knife.  Once again, light blazed.  Blake retrieved his weapon just in time to stab it into the back of yet another black-eyed monster that was struggling with Sam.

            But more were pouring into the room now.  It became a nightmare of screaming, black eyes, and light.  Blake held his ground as well as he could, aware of the comforting presence of the brothers at his back, guarding him even as they were trusting him to do his part.  But he was equally aware that the two were bearing the lion’s share of the battle.  The demons were trying to capture Blake, going after his weapon again and again.  Three times Blake was very nearly disarmed or dragged away, and three times Dean or Sam was forced to break off his own battle to help him.  He was able to get one demon off of Sam and trip up another going after Dean.  But both of the brothers were hurt.  All three were stumbling over the bodies.  Blood made the floor treacherous.  And where was Levine?  Blake belatedly realized that he’d lost track of the possessed country star in the melee.  Had Crowley taken him?  If he had, how would Blake possibly reach him?

            Dean grabbed Blake’s arm, pulling him towards a door heading deeper into the building.  “You ok?”

            “I’m fine, but y’all are hurt!”

            “Trust me, we’ve had worse,” Dean assured as if that made it better.  “You did good, buddy.”

            Blake questioned Dean’s standards, but this wasn’t the time.  “Where’s Levine?”

            “He ran through there,” Sam reported, pointing towards the dressing rooms.  “We gotta…  Incoming!”

            Three more demons.  The building was full of them, and Levine was surrounded.

            He was surrounded.  Adam.  He was surrounded _Adam was surrounded by demons!_

            Suddenly, Blake was in full battle mode.  He didn’t hesitate, barreling into the center demon shoulder first, slamming it into the wall, pounding it in the face with his brass knuckles, and then following up with a brutal knife thrust just beneath the sternum.  Light blazed.  He turned, saw the brothers had finished with their own opponents, and headed through the next door, heading back towards the dressing rooms after Adam.

            Four more demons were here.  Blake took the first one out with a sweeping slash to the throat, kicked the second back, stabbed the third in the gut and dove on the fourth, slamming down with the brass knuckles.  He struggled with the demon, rolling around on the floor until Sam dropped down to stab it in the back.  Blake grunted, throwing the body off, and accepted Sam’s hand to get back up.

            Both of the brothers were giving him a funny look.  Blake didn’t care.  Two more demons had just come in.  Blake charged them, taking them both to the ground.  He stabbed the first and turned to the second in time to see it throw back its head and vomit what appeared to be black smoke.  Surprised, he paused, watching the smoke billow out.  Then he scowled and raised his knife.

            A hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him.  “He’s human now!” Sam called, smiling.  “It’s ok.  You scared the demon out of him, Blake!  They definitely underestimated you!”

            “They weren’t the only ones,” Dean added.  His voice was full of admiration.  “Damn, buddy!  You just kicked some serious demon ass!”

            Blake frowned at the wide-eyed, terrified man trembling beneath him.  Then he got up and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.  The man bolted.

            Blake turned to see both of the brothers smiling at him.  He sighed.  “Adam means more to me than life itself, ok?” he explained.  “This isn’t him here, but it’s still Adam Levine, and they put their filthy fucking hands on him!  I guess I kind of lost it.”

            “It’s ok,” Sam assured.  “You did a hell of a job, Blake!”

            Blake shuddered and nodded.  “Think that’s all of them?”

            “I doubt it.”  Dean Winchester, optimist.  “And we still need to find Levine.”

            “If this studio’s anything like what I’m used to, he’s probably in here,” Blake said, pointing down the hall.  “Dressing rooms.”  He started down the hall, examining the doors.  The second door down was marked “Adam Levine.”  Blake pushed back the pang of pain the sight of the name brought him and tried the door.  Locked.  He turned to the brothers.  “You guys know how to pick locks?”

            “Sure do,” Dean announced.  He had what appeared to be a water gun in his hand.  Moving past Blake, Dean casually kicked the door open.  “Wait here,” he called, ducking inside.  Sam followed.

            Blake hesitated for a moment.  Then he went in anyway.  He stepped into the room just in time to see Dean blast a stream of water directly into Levine’s face.  Levine, who appeared to be trying to climb the vanity mirror, blinked and sputtered.  “The fuck?!  Get the hell away from me you crazy motherfuckers!  I’ve got a gun!  I’ll fucking shoot you!”

            “You couldn’t shoot the broad side of a barn!” Blake yelled.  “Last time I took you target shooting, you were so bad at it that I said I’d be safer if I stood in front of the target than behind you!  I think the biggest reason you hate guns is because you’re such a lousy shot!  Now I _know_ you’re possessed!”

            “Blake?”  Sam’s voice was gentle as the younger brother gently pushed Blake back out of the room.  “He isn’t possessed.”

            “What the hell are you talking about?” Blake exclaimed, wincing as Levine started screaming at Dean to get away from him.  “Of course he’s possessed!  That talk of guns, and the way he talked about a contract when we came in?”

            “Dean just sprayed him in the face with holy water,” Sam explained, steering Blake out into the hall.  “If he was possessed, it would have burned him.  But it didn’t, Blake.  Levine’s human.”

            Blake blinked.  “But the way he acted…?”

            “…Is apparently the way he is.”  Sam sighed as screaming and cursing rang out from the room.  “I’m sorry, Blake.  I wish I could tell you it was a demon that made him act that way.  But I guess, in this world, Adam Levine really is just a prima donna asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr Fun cheered when Dean stabbed the first demon. Thinks Crowley is an idiot and obviously had some goons to spare to go and die that he sent them against the Winchesters. Liked Blake kicking ass.
> 
> The first time Mr. Fun and I played the Supernatural version of Clue, every round except one, the weapon was Ruby's knife. Because of that, it became christened "Ruby's Fucking Knife."


	17. Captive Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake finally has the opportunity to speak alone with Adam Levine.

            Ten minutes later, Blake and Levine were in the car Sam had driven out in, following the brothers in the Impala.  The brothers had reluctantly agreed to give Blake some time alone to talk to Levine.  But now that they were alone, Blake wasn’t sure what, exactly, to say to him.  The cruel way he’d seen Levine interact with his staff repeated over and over in his mind.  What he’d said to that poor girl who had spilled his coffee...!  His Adam would have decked anyone who’d done that!  This man was nothing like Adam!  And yet he was, without a doubt, Adam Levine.  Why?  What could have happened to him that made him so shockingly different from the man Blake loved?  His Adam was warm and bubbly and friendly, drawing people to him like a magnet.  But in this world, Levine was exactly the opposite, cold and heartless, pushing everyone away from him.

            And yet, Levine had seemed so friendly on stage, back at the contest!  He’d certainly fooled Blake!  But Adam couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag.  Surely this version of him couldn’t be much better?  Didn’t that mean that, somewhere inside of this cruel, arrogant man, his sweet Rockstar was just waiting to emerge?

            Blake’s eyes constantly strayed to the rearview mirror, watching Levine struggling in the back seat.  “I’m sorry about this,” he called.  “Believe me, this isn’t how I wanted this to go!”

            Furious hazel eyes glowered at him.  Levine’s hands were cuffed behind his back, his ankles bound.  But that didn’t stop him from struggling.  Blake didn’t think he’d stopped struggling since they’d taken him.  In that aspect, he was a lot like Adam.  Adam never would have gone quietly, either.

            The first thing Levine had done when he’d been dragged into the car was kick the back driver’s side window hard enough to crack it.  Then he’d tried the same trick on Blake’s face.  Levine’s cowboy boots, Blake quickly learned, hurt just as much as Adam’s motorcycle boots.  The little shit had kicked Blake with them a time or two, and left bruises to prove it.  But that had been accidental, happening when the two of them had been roughhousing, wrestling over the remote control or the last bottle of beer.  Levine had been quite serious about wanting to do damage.  Blake’s cheek still stung.  For the first time, Blake actually felt slightly bad about kicking Dean in the face when they’d first met.  It was only through virtue of a bad angle and quick reflexes that Blake had received just a glancing blow.  But Levine was fighting as if his life depended on it.  After what he’d just seen, he likely thought it did.  In the end, they’d been forced to bind his ankles to his wrists, bending his legs behind him so that he resembled the capital letter D.  Then, when he’d thrashed so much he’d ended up in the foot well, they’d had to use the seat belts to keep him in the seat.  Duct tape still covered his mouth.  Sam had quietly recommended that Blake leave it in place.  But Blake’s heart was aching to see the man who looked so much like his husband bound and gagged, frightened and furious as he lay helpless on the seat.

            “Listen, I can only imagine what’s going through your head,” Blake began.  “I promise you, we won’t hurt you!”

            Levine growled around the duct tape and rolled his eyes.

            “Yeah, ok, after what you just saw us doing, I imagine you’d have a time believing that,” Blake admitted.  “But you were there when it started!  You had to have seen that, what was happening when we killed those people?  They were demons, Mr. Levine!  They had all your people back there!  And I’m no killer.  I only did what I had to do to get to you!  Believe me, if there had been any way to get you out without killing them, I’d have done it in a heartbeat!”  He sighed.  “Before I came here, I never imagined I could take a human life.  Today, I must have killed half a dozen people!  I did that!  Me!  And with a knife, up close and personal!  That’s…”  Blake shuddered.  “I never knew I had that in me.  That I could be someone who could do that!  But I did it, because I had to.  Because it was the only way I could get back to the one person I’d go to Hell for!”

            Levine made a noise.  He was rubbing his face against the seat, obviously trying to work the tape off of his mouth.  Apparently he wanted to talk, or at least start yelling again.  He still looked angry, but fear was starting to become the dominant emotion in his eyes.  Blake saw the muscles in his arms flex as he strained to free his hands.  His body thrashed, face twisted in effort.  Then his eyes closed.  He let loose a little sound, half growl of frustration, half whine of fear.

            “Yeah, I know,” Blake sighed.  “Sam and Dean kept me tied up for a week, and I can attest to just how much that sucks.  I used to have fun daydreams about punching Dean.  Now here I am, doing this to you!  And I imagine you’ve got some real interesting ideas about how you’d like to pay me back for it, too, don’t you?  You always were an imaginative little shit!”  Blake chuckled.  “The pranks we used to pull on each other!  You remember how pissed off you were when I tweeted your phone number?  Then you got two tons of cow manure dumped on my brand new truck!  You even had the windows down, you bastard!  But I had that coming.  You were getting calls all day and night, from all over the world!  Man, you were so pissed!”

            Silence from the back seat.  Adam had gone still, watching Blake.  The chain between the cuffs rattled as his hands twisted behind him.  He was still trying to struggle free, but he seemed to be paying attention to what Blake was saying.

            “You remember that year you got Sexiest Man Alive, and you got that blown-up cover of the magazine framed and delivered to me?” Blake asked, encouraged.  “Oh, you strutted around like a damned peacock!  First time that went to a singer instead of an actor!  And I was so proud of you!  Back then, we were already as close as brothers.  People were all over that whole ‘bromance’ thing.  And we certainly played it up, didn’t we, Adam?  We laughed about it, but then we’d turn right around and do shit that only made it worse!  We flirted in public, and made silly comments in interviews about how we were visiting sex shops together.  I’d flirt with you every chance I got, and you flirted right back!  We had this good-natured rivalry on ‘The Voice,’ ripping into each other fighting over contestants.  But we fought over everything!  Hell, I can’t think of a single thing we didn’t fight over, from songs to hairstyles to clothing and everything in between!  We’d rip into each other and then flirt some more.  The fans ate it up, especially when we’d hug!  You always loved to be cuddled, didn’t you?  Worked out real well when I realized I liked cuddling you!  And you’re such a skinny little runt.  I could manhandle you so easily!  You’d come over for a hug and then immediately want loose, so I’d hold you still just to piss you off.  Then you’d squirm and start whining and complaining until I let you go.  But after a while, you’d come right back to me for more!”

            Blake was smiling now, lost in his happy memories.  He glanced back to see that Adam was now completely still.  The hazel eyes were locked on him.  “We’d be filming ‘The Voice,’ sitting in those big red chairs, and you’d come clear down the row to sit in my lap,” Blake recalled.  “I’d pull you in, hold you tight, give you kisses, and you’d just protest and make faces and squirm away, only to come right back again.  Then the year Usher started flirting with me, too, and people started saying you had competition?  You’d just scoff and roll your eyes and yell, ‘He can have him!’  And we all laughed, because it was all a joke.”  His voice grew soft.  “Just a joke.”

            Not a sound from the back seat.  Adam was still and small, his hazel eyes huge as he watched Blake.

            “It was just a joke,” Blake repeated.  “It was always just a joke!  That’s all.  There wasn’t anything real to it!  You got Sexiest Man Alive, and when people asked you what I thought of it, you said that _I_ deserved it!  And I laughed.  Then I got it too, and we laughed even harder!  But you were there for me during my divorce, weren’t you?  I could have gone to my family, but when I was at my lowest, I went to you.  And that’s what got me through it.  It wasn’t the booze or the support from my fans through all the shit or even the therapy.  It was you, Adam.  You, sitting up with me late at night letting me pour my heart out.  You, telling the reporters to fuck off and leave me alone.  You, fielding all my calls and working with the lawyers and the agents and producers, even the families!  You, letting me stay with you and just hide out for a bit until I could face the world again!  But then I went out, and acted like nothing had ever happened.  I went right back to laughing, didn’t I?”

            Adam squirmed and made a small noise.  His eyes, when Blake looked in the rearview mirror, were still locked on Blake.  “People said we were both single now, we should get together,” Blake continued.  “And I laughed.  I knew you were bisexual, but I didn’t care.  You’d get shitfaced drunk and go on a crying jag.  Then I’d hear all about how beautiful I was, and how you’d never find anyone else like me, and you wished I wasn’t straight!  And I laughed.  Because it was all a joke, Rockstar.  Just one big joke!  Until one day, it wasn’t.  Until one day, you were standing in front of me, stone sober, telling me you were in love with me, that you’d been in love with me for a while now, and you had to tell me because if there was any way…?”  Blake shook his head.  “I didn’t realize it at the time, but when you did that, you scared the shit out of me!  All of a sudden, every interaction we’d had, all the stupid shit we’d done, all those times we’d hug or give each other kisses or flirt?  Suddenly, it all had a whole new meaning!  Suddenly, I found myself stepping back and questioning my own sexuality.  I had to take a long, hard look in the mirror.  What I saw scared me, because it wasn’t something I could understand or deal with.  I couldn’t laugh then.  So I cursed you instead!  I told you that I was disgusted by you!  I said you’d taken advantage of my trust, my friendship, to try to get something from me you had no right to ask of me!  And I told you to leave.  I said I wanted you the hell out of my life.  And you left!  You let me scream all that shit at you after you’d just bared your heart.  You let me tear you apart!  But you never said anything except ‘I’m sorry.’  And I wouldn’t even hear that!  God help me, Adam.  I wouldn’t even let you tell me you were sorry!  I just threw you out, let the best thing in my life, my biggest source of support and the best friend I ever had, walk away because I spooked myself questioning my own sexuality!”

            The Impala blurred ahead of him.  Blake quickly brushed his sleeve over his eyes.  His vision cleared, but the lump in his throat did not.  Blake breathed deeply through his nose, trying to regain control.  “Still kills me, remembering what I did to you,” he called, not daring to look back.  “Then we had to go right back to filming the live shows of ‘The Voice’ like nothing happened.  Of course Carson knew something was wrong.  That fucker always did!  He pulled you aside, but you just smiled and said everything was fine.  But it wasn’t fine!  And I got some damned dirty looks from Carson between takes, because he knew.  He knew you weren’t fine.  And he knew that somehow it was my fault!”

            “Then the season ended, and you took off and didn’t come back.  And no one could find you!  To this day, I don’t know where you went that night, what you did for those few days you disappeared.  I just know I got some frantic calls, your band saying you’d missed practice and no one could reach you.  That was scary, I won’t lie!  I was still pissed as hell, but I never wanted anything to happen to you, you know?”  His voice grew soft again.  “Where did you go, Rockstar?  For days you were gone.  No one could reach you!  And then you just showed up back at your house like nothing happened, with a big dent and all these scratches on your car!  Anyone with eyes could see you’d been in an accident.  But there was no report, no record of it!  And you?  What a mess you were!  I think that was the scariest part.  You were always kind of vain.  Hell, anyone would be, looking the way you do!  But that day, no one would have recognized you.  I came over to your house ready to give you hell, and you hadn’t shaved in days, hadn’t changed your clothes, you were filthy, you smelled horrible...  You looked like a homeless wino on the street!  And that’s when it hit me.  That’s when I realized just how badly I’d hurt you, and how much you really cared!  And even later, when I finally got my head out of my ass and we got together?  Even today, I won’t ever forgive myself for that.  For what I put you through, for the crime of giving me your heart!”

            Silence from the backseat.  Blake wiped again at his streaming eyes.  “It took me so long, too damned long, to understand.  To finally get that love, true love, doesn’t care about things like gender!  We’re soulmates, you and I.  It took me too long to figure that out.  To finally get that when it’s real, it’s just… real!  I love you, Rockstar.  I’ve loved you for so long, and I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, see it.  The wrong damned things mattered, when the one thing that should have mattered the most...?”  He swallowed hard.  “I could have lost you so easily!  That accident you got into could have been so much worse!  Or you could have just given up on me after what I’d done to you.  Even when we agreed to give it a try, I was so damned confused and awkward around you!  You tried so hard to be something I’d want, to not push me, to take it slow.  You walked around on eggshells with me, so scared I’d bolt.  And I’ll confess, there were a couple of times there that I almost did!  Especially when word got out that we really were dating.  I didn’t say anything, but so much stupid shit went through my head that I had no idea what to do!  And you knew.  Of course you knew.  Anyone could see how stiff I was in pictures around then, how my smile never hit my eyes.  I was still working things out in my own head, trying to figure out just what it was that I wanted.  And meanwhile, you were left to face the whole world alone, to stand up for us both against all the hate and bullshit that people were throwing at us.  You should have left my sorry ass right then!  I’ll never know why you stayed.  All I know is, I’m so damned glad you did!”

            Silence.  Blake followed after the Impala largely on autopilot, lost in his memories.

            _“_ _If I could, I would dare feed your dreams and starve your fears.  If I could light the world?  We could sit and watch it burn.  We could fall asleep inside the glow.  So tell me what I gotta do to win you over?  You'll never have to wonder if you need another!  You'll never have to wonder if I understand, and every time you reach for me, you'll find a hand out!”_

            Blake hadn’t realized he’d started singing until he heard Adam gasp, heard the rattle as he struggled a little against the handcuffs.  He looked back, saw hazel eyes that were wide and full of fear in Adam’s pale face.  Blake’s heart ached.  _“If I could,”_ he sang softly, _“take you in, feeling you deep beneath my skin?  Then I could slip away with you as a poison in my veins.  I don't wanna fall asleep alone, and wake up knowing that I died without the one!”_

            A whimper rose from the back seat, followed by the frantic rattling of the cuffs.  Blake glanced back in alarm to see Adam in a panic, eyes glazed with terror as he struggled.  “Shit!” he called, pulling over and flashing his lights to alert Dean.  “Hang on, baby!”

            Adam cried out again, still struggling.

            Blake was out of the car and in the back door in a flash, freeing Adam from the seat belts and pulling him close as Adam continued to thrash and cry out.  “Shh, shh, Rockstar, I got you!  You’re having a panic attack!  It’s ok.  I’m here!”

            He held tight to Adam, stroking his hair with one hand as he gently kissed Adam’s temple.  His husband’s breathing was coming in panicked gasps, hindered by the tape.  Adam was having trouble getting air, hindered by the gag.    He squirmed frantically in Blake’s arms, shaking his head.  “Here, hold on,” Blake called.  “Lemme get that tape off so you can breathe easier, and talk.  You’re ok, baby.  Shh, now, calm down.  I got you.”  Blake gently pulled the tape off of Adam’s mouth.

            Adam gasped.  Then he went wild in Blake’s arms, struggling madly.  “Fucking let go of me!” he screamed.  “Take your hands off of me, you sick fuck!  Leave me alone!  Help!  Please help me!  Someone get him off of me!”

            Blake blinked in surprise.  “What?  Adam, I’m not going to hurt you!”

            “Bullshit!”  Adam strained, pulling so hard against the cuffs that Blake was alarmed to see how deeply they were digging into his wrists.  “The way you were talking and singing to me, and how you’re holding me and fucking kissing me now?!  You’re gonna rape me!”

            Blake was shocked.  “Adam, it’s me!  I wouldn’t ever...!”

            “You’re crazy!” Adam spat, still struggling.  “You think I’m your boyfriend or something, but I’m not!  I didn’t do any of that shit you just imagined I did!  I don’t know you, and I don’t fucking want to!  You’re just a sick, crazy son of a bitch, and I don’t want anything to do with you!  Leave me alone!  _Help!_ ”

            Blake stared, stunned.  Then someone grabbed him, pried his hands off of Adam.  Blake started fighting them before he came to his senses and recognized Dean.  “Blake!” Dean yelled, slamming him against the side of the car.  “It’s not him!  It’s not your husband!  You’re confused, and that’s understandable.  But you have to stop!”

            Blake just stared at him.  He could hear Sam, who had ducked into the back of the car, speaking softly and quickly to Adam.  Then Adam sobbed and Blake lunged, desperate to comfort.

            This time it took both brothers to get Blake back.  Dean wrapped his arms around him from behind, pinning Blake’s arms to his sides.  Meanwhile Sam was right in Blake’s face, pushing back on his shoulders.  “Stop, Blake!” Sam pleaded.  “You just completely freaked him out, buddy!  You gotta get away from him now, ok?”

            “But...!”

            “Blake, look at me!”  Sam’s green eyes bored into Blake’s, pleading.  “You can’t do this!  I know it hurts, but you’re only making it worse right now!  You have got to _stop!”_

            Blake whimpered.  “I can’t leave him alone like this!”

            “He’s not,” Sam insisted.  “I’ll take care of him.  You go with Dean, and I’ll get him calmed down.  We’ll meet you back at the bunker.”

            Blake looked anxiously towards the car, and Sam shook his shoulders.  _“Blake!_   It’s ok.  Go with Dean, and I promise you, I will take care of him!  W-will you trust me?”

            Blake looked at Sam.  Sam, he knew, was a hell of a fighter.  But at the same time, the younger hunter’s eyes were gentle, as was his voice.  Blake saw this, as well as determination.  Sam wouldn’t let him down.  Blake forced himself to relax, and nodded.

            “Come on, buddy,” Dean urged, steering Blake away.  “Sammy’s got this.  It’s ok.  Just come up with me, alright?”

            Blake blinked.  Then he wilted and, without a word, let Dean lead him up to the Impala.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Blake sings is "Over"  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MK5aFNVGtPc
> 
> Mr. Fun thinks that Blake was way confused. Wonders if it has something to do with whatever Cass did?
> 
> Trivia Time!
> 
> The pranks described here are real!


	18. Adam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake must deal with the fall-out of his mistake with Levine, as well as what's happening to him. Sam tries to talk Levine into helping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long, rough chapter ahead.
> 
> Song is "I'm Already There" by Lonestar. Only snippets of it is used here.

            Blake was silent on the ride back, staring quietly out the window.  He was completely humiliated and chagrined at what he’d done to Levine.  He couldn’t imagine what had been going through the poor man’s head.  How had he gotten so confused?  He didn’t understand it.  Levine wasn’t Adam.  That was painfully obvious.  The simple fact that he’d been tied up in the back seat should have brought that fact home!  But instead, for a while there, Blake had honestly believed that Levine was his husband, and that he’d come back to Blake if Blake could only convince him, remind him of who he really was.  It was insane!  What the hell was wrong with him?

            _“You’re rapidly running out of time, especially you, Mr. Shelton!  Or haven’t you figured out yet just what that naughty little angel of yours has done?”_ That was what the demon had said.  _“He never expected Mr. Shelton here to have to pay the price he’d agreed to!”_

            There was no denying it now.  Something was wrong with him, terribly wrong.  Somehow, it seemed Cass had something to do with it.  But what had the angel done, and why would Blake have to pay for it?

            Blake glanced over at Dean.  He’d expected Dean to scold him.  But instead, Dean had quietly asked if Blake wanted to talk about what had happened?  And Blake had poured out the whole story, everything he’d told Levine.  To his surprise, Dean listened without a single word of condemnation.  And that, more than anything else, brought Blake back around.  “You get it, don’t you, buddy?” Blake asked him.  “This life you lead, it’s not really designed for relationships, is it?  Either of you two ever had anything serious?”

            “Sammy lost the girl he probably would have married to the same demon who killed our mom,” Dean explained.  “I don’t think he ever really got over her.  Hasn’t had anything serious since.”

            “What about you?” Blake asked.  “You ever have anyone?”

            “I had a girl, Lisa,” Dean told him.  “She had a son named Ben.  I actually thought he might have been mine!  I’d have loved that!  Ben was a great kid, they were both just awesome!  After Sam jumped into the Cage to trap Lucifer, I went back to them.  Tried to have some sort of normal life.  Almost pulled it off, too!  Then Sam came back, and I went right back to hunting again.”

            “You regret it?”

            “Sometimes,” Dean admitted.  “I think Sam’s got a bit of guilt over that.  He thinks if he hadn’t come back into my life, I might have stayed with Lisa and Ben.  But the truth is, this life?  You don’t ever walk away from it.  Sooner or later, something was going to come.  And it did.  When you’re a hunter, so is everyone else in your life, even if they have no idea any of the shit’s real.  And my life came knocking for Lisa and Ben.”  Dean’s voice was soft.  The green eyes were filled with sadness as they watched the road.  “You tell yourself you can protect them, but you can’t, Blake.  You just can’t.  In the end, I knew the only chance they had is if I got them away from me.  So I did the only thing I could.  I asked Cass to erase their memories of me.  He did.  And I left.  And now they don’t know that they ever knew me.”

            “Dean, I’m sorry.  I had no idea!”  Blake paused.  “You know, it doesn’t have to be like that.  Maybe you couldn’t have a wife and child like them, but you don’t have to be alone!”

            “I’m not alone.  I got Sammy, and Bobby, and I got Cass.”  Blake got a sideways glance.  “As a friend.  Ok?”

            “Yeah, I’ve heard that song before,” Blake grumbled, suddenly feeling surly.  “I’ve sung it a time or two!  You drive me straight up a wall, Dean!  Why’s it so damned hard for you to see what even Crowley finds obvious?!  Waiting for you to figure out your real feelings is like waiting for a star to fall!  And there’s no one around who knows that better than I do.  I was right where you are, and it took me way too long to learn my lesson!  But at least I didn’t have to lose Adam before I learned!”  Blake grimaced.  “Shit, Shelton, what the hell is wrong with you?!  Fuck me!  You didn’t deserve any of that, Dean.  I’m sorry.”

            But Dean wasn’t upset.  “It’s ok.  You’ve had a hell of a day.  And you fought well today, Blake.  Damned well!  Proud of you, buddy!”

            Blake smiled.  He glanced back at the car behind them and sighed.  “What the hell am I going to say to him now?”

            “Nothing.  You and I will just stand back and let Sammy do the talking for us both.  Trust me, it works.”

            Blake looked back again at the other car.  “You really think Sam can get through to him, after the shit I just pulled?”

            “Blake, this is what we do.  The shit we deal with freaks people out on a regular basis,” Dean declared.  “My brother and I know our roles.  I do the fighting, he does the talking.  Now that we got Levine out, it’s time for my brother to do what he does best.  And he’s good at it, Blake!  He went to school to be a lawyer, did I tell you that?”  Dean’s face split into an unexpected smile.  “Sammy’s so smart!  He’d have made a hell of a lawyer!  But his skills haven’t gone to waste.  Trust me, Sammy’s already going to work on Levine back there.  He’s got this way, these big old puppy dog eyes?  I couldn’t do it in a million years.  But if anyone on the planet can talk Levine into helping us, it’s Sammy!”

            “I hope so.”

            The green eyes were solemn.  “And if there’s anyone who should absolutely not talk to Levine anymore, it’s you, Blake.  Sorry, buddy.  I’m sure you want to talk to him, but if you do?  You’ll only make it worse.  Let Sammy work his magic.”

            Blake had nothing to say to that.  He peered out the window, watching the passing scenery without seeing it.  “Dean?” he called softly.  “Something’s wrong with me.”

            “I know.”  Dean’s voice was also quiet.  “Something’s been wrong for a while.  We’ve all seen it.  And it’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

            “Worse every day.”  Blake licked his lips.  “What that demon said back there, about your angel?”

            “I wish I could tell you that Cass wouldn’t ever do anything stupid that would hurt someone else,” Dean said.  “I wish I could say he’s never gone behind my back and made a deal with Crowley before that’s done exactly that!  But it’d be a lie, Blake.  My angel, he’s a literal angel, but figuratively speaking, he’s no angel, you know?  But none of them really are.  There’s a reason we made you get that angel ward, buddy.  Cass carved ours right into our ribs.”

            “Ow?” Blake commented.

            Dean shrugged.  “Thing about Cass is, he wants to do the right thing.  His heart’s always in the right place when he sets his goals.  But once he sets a goal?”  He shook his head.  “He’s a warrior of Heaven, buddy.  He’s been alive since the dawn of time, and all that time, he’s done whatever it took to reach his goals, going around or through anything or anyone in his way.  It’s not easy for him to change!  He’s getting better, you know, talking to us and thinking more about consequences before he goes charging off.  But Cass, he’s like a kid, Blake!  He’s unbelievably powerful, but at the same time, he’s just this awkward nerdy guy, you know?  He’s so new at this, interacting on a human level.  Back in the beginning, when he first turned his back on the hosts of Heaven and became a fallen angel, he was absolutely clueless about damned near everything.  He’s learned, and he’s still learning.  But he also knew we were desperate that night we met you.  Cass was the only one who could have handled that efreet.  It had already killed three other hunters, and we all knew we were on the block if it got away from us.  And I can absolutely see him taking a deal to try to keep that from happening.”

            “He panicked when he realized I had that hex bag,” Blake recalled.  “I thought before it was because he knew he was losing his ticket home.  But do you think maybe there was another reason?”

            “Yeah,” Dean agreed.  “I think that’s a real possibility.”

            They stopped once on the drive back, Dean running in to get them all a bite to eat while Sammy continued on a bit.  Then they’d met up some distance from the restaurant, so they could eat with no danger of Levine drawing attention.  The weather took a turn for the worse, the sky opening up and dumping rain.  Dean, who had stopped for a bit to speak with Sam, was drenched when he returned to the Impala.

            Blake ate without tasting his food, his eyes on the two men in the other car.  Sam was in the back seat with Levine.  He’d apparently cuffed the singer with his hands in front, allowing him to hold his food to eat.  Through the pouring rain, Blake could see the occasional gleam of metal on Levine’s wrists.  The two appeared to be eating, and talking.  Levine, it appeared was much calmer.  But Blake couldn’t see much through the pouring rain.  Blake longed to go back and check up on him.  But when his hand inched towards the door, Dean cleared his throat and shook his head.  Blake let his hand drop.

            “He’s been talking to Sammy,” Dean reported.  “So far, Sammy’s just been letting him talking, getting him to open up about whatever.  And Blake, you did the worst possible thing.  Levine’s bisexual in this world, but apparently that’s kind of a no no in country music?”

            “It’s a lot better than it used to be, but yeah,” Blake confirmed.  “I know I got a lot of bullshit when I first started dating Adam.”

            “So did he,” Dean explained.  “And he didn’t have anyone to stand with him.  I don’t think he’s as strong as your husband, because he ended up heading right back into the closet.”

            “Holy shit, no wonder he’s such a dick!” Blake groaned.  “Adam’s always been so out there and outspoken.  If he got crammed into a mold, of course he turned mean!  And he didn’t have anyone to support him?  Not one damned person?!”

            “I guess not.”

            Blake swore.  “Fuck me.  So he’s been hiding out in a closet all this time, and then he gets kidnapped and the dumb bastard starts talking crazy and kissing him?  No wonder he flipped!”

            Dean didn’t answer.  But he reached over and gently squeezed Blake’s arm.  Blake appreciated the gesture.  But he said no more on the ride back.  The pouring rain was the perfect backdrop to his mood.

            Finally, they arrived at the bunker.  Dean kept Blake back, letting Sam lead Levine, his hands still cuffed, but his legs untied, inside.  At some point Sam had blindfolded him, probably to protect the location of the bunker.  He looked so small and vulnerable, walking next to Sam with his hands twisted into the hunter’s jacket.  He shuddered and pressed a bit closer to Sam, who had his hand on Levine’s far shoulder.

            Sam didn’t have his arm around him.  All the younger hunter was doing was trying to comfort his charge.  That didn’t stop Blake’s gut from churning.  It was killing him, seeing this double for his husband press close to Sam’s side, seeking protection from Blake.  Blake wished there was something he could say or do for Levine to take the terror out of the man’s eyes.  But it was clear that Sam was now the only one Levine trusted.  How much they could bank on that was anyone’s guess.

            Levine was so different from Adam that Blake felt awkward around him, especially now.  But at the same time, there was no question he was Adam.  Now that his blindfold was off, Adam’s beautiful hazel eyes roamed through the bunker, following their every move.  That was Adam’s slender form.  His tattoos were slightly different, but the tiger, which had always been Blake’s favorite, was very much the same.  And that voice!  Blake had heard that voice saying “I love you” so many times.  But Levine refused to speak to anyone but Sam.  He stayed close to Sam, actually ducking behind the younger hunter to hide when Blake came near.  That hurt more than Blake had thought it could.

            Dean, apparently, understood.  He gently took Blake’s elbow and led him to a chair well away from Sam and Levine.  Then he’d darted back outside and returned a moment later with, of all things, the trophies they’d won at the contest, scurrying back to his room to drop them off before returning to help Sam.  It would have been adorable if Blake had been anything but miserable right now.

            Blake sat down, folded his hands, and let them rest on his knees, watching.  Even the way that Levine was ducking his head towards Sam was achingly familiar.  It was precisely the way that Adam would duck towards Blake whenever he was upset, seeking Blake’s comfort as if on instinct.  Seeing him do that with Sam forced Blake to clench his hands tightly together and force himself to slow his breathing just to keep from screaming.

            Sam led Levine to a chair and sat him down.  “Alright, I’m going to let you go, and clean up your wrists,” the hunter said.  “You really tore them up struggling!”

            “Yeah, well, let’s see how you do if some lunatic kidnaps you and then starts talking all kinds of crazy shit like you have this whole history with him!” Levine spat, glowering at Blake.

            “I already told you, he’s from another world, where he does have a whole history with you.  He just got confused,”  Sam explained, gently freeing Levine’s hands.  Dean had quietly put a first aid kit on the table and then moved away.  Sam went to work on the cuts on Levine’s wrists.  “Ok, we talked about this in the car, and you said you’d think about it?”

            “I did, and I did,” Levine grumbled.  “The only deal I thought I’d make today was supposed to be for that damned duet, and it was supposed to be that Williams sings one song with me and then tells the press what a great guy I am to balance out some of the bad publicity!  How the fuck did I end up here?!”

            “You can go just as soon as we’re finished,” Sam promised, quickly cleaning and wrapping Levine’s wounds.  “You’ve got my word on that.”

            “And I can trust you because…?” Levine challenged.

            “Have I lied to you so far?”

            “How the hell do I know?  I have no way to confirm anything you’ve said!”

            “You do if you help us,” Sam pointed out.  He finished with his dressings and smiled at Levine.  “Now, remember what I said?”

            “This is what you do,” Levine recited.  “I believe you, alright?  After that bullshit back at the studio, there’s no way I couldn’t believe you!  All things considered, you’re not so bad, Sam, but Williams and that other asshole over there...?!”

            “Help us,” Sam urged.  “Do this one thing, and I swear, you’ll never have to see or hear from us ever again!”

            Levine’s eyes flicked again to Blake.  “That goes for all of you?”

            “All of us,” Sam vowed.

            Levine sighed.  Then he nodded.  “I gotta be crazy.  But as long as you let me go and never come near me again, I’ll do it.  And no one touches me but you, ok?”  The hazel eyes flickered between Blake and Dean and grew hard.  “I don’t want either of those two motherfuckers coming near me!”

            “We’ll stay away,” Dean promised, showing his empty hands.  “Thank you.”

            “Yeah, go fuck yourself.”

            The two brothers immediately went to work setting up the spell, chatting on speaker with Bobby, who directed them.  Blake sat on his ass like a lump and stayed out of their way.  Once again, he was faced with the knowledge that Dean had been right.  Blake’s presence was bad enough without him trying to talk to Levine.  Levine was terrified of him.  Even now, Blake saw Levine flinch when Dean came closer, bringing the last few bits of God alone knew what to the table for their spell, but once again, the eyes returned to warily watch Blake.  Even though it had been Dean who’d abducted him, it was Blake that frightened Levine the most.  It hurt.  Blake sat still, miserable, watching the proceedings, until he couldn’t stand it anymore.  He got up and headed outside.

            Night had fallen, and it was dark and wet and miserable.  Blake supposed it would be at least dark regardless.  They’d just reached the new moon.  That meant he’d been here two weeks.  Two weeks, in this other world, away from Adam.  He stood in the doorway, protected from the rain, and watched the storm.  Once again, the weather seemed to be echoing his emotions.

            Whatever was wrong with him, Blake was really starting to feel it.  Physically, he seemed fine.  But inside, he felt somehow drained.  What had happened tonight with Levine didn’t help.  But at least Levine himself was willing, however reluctantly, to assist them.  Blake stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall of the bunker, and waited.  He had no idea how long he’d been out there before the door opened and Dean stuck his head out.

            “We’re ready,” Dean announced.

            Blake nodded, and followed him back inside.

            They’d drawn a weird sigil on the floor, not that different from the one Cass had drawn back at the start of all this mess.  Levine was standing in the middle of it, rocking from foot to foot and looking nervous.  He spotted Blake and swallowed hard.  His tongue licked anxiously at his lips as he looked pleadingly at Sam.  “Is this going to hurt?” he asked in a small voice.  “What’s going to happen to me?”

            “You’ll be fine,” Sam assured him.  “It won’t hurt.  You’ll feel a little funny, and then you’re going to find yourself in another world.  You’ll be in your body, but it will be different.  Now, we have no way to know exactly where the other version of you will be or what he’ll be doing.  That will likely be a little scary!  But just relax, and try to be ready for anything.  Remember, it will only be for a few minutes!”

            Levine wrapped his arms around himself and shivered.  “A-alright,” he managed.

            Sam gave him an encouraging smile.  “You know what to do?”

            Levine nodded.  “Look for a guy, about my height,” he recited.  “Dark hair, dark blue eyes, suit and tie, trench coat.  Cass.  Tell him he has to cast this spell to open the gate at nine pm on the night of the whole full moon, and that other me will tell him where.  If I can’t find him, try to find a way to leave a note or something.”  He grimaced and shook his head.  “So, I’ll be in this other me’s body, and he’ll be here in mine?”  He eyed Blake, then looked pleadingly back at Sam.  “It’s still my body, ok?  I know you said he’s married to Williams, but this is my body, and I’ll be coming back to it!  Don’t…  Don’t let him, you know, do anything to me, ok?”

            Blake didn’t know what was worse, the fear in Levine’s eyes, the distrust, or the fact that he was once more looking to Sam, not Blake, for comfort.

            “It’s going to be alright, I promise,” Sam vowed.  He took Levine by the shoulders and smiled.  “Thank you for doing this.”

            Levine nodded.  “You’re not giving me much of a choice, Sam, but you’re welcome.  Just keep your promise, ok?  After this, you let me go, you’ll tell me how I can protect myself from those damned demons, and you’ll never come anywhere near me again!”

            “You got it.”  Sam gently clapped his hand against the side of Levine’s neck.  “You ready, buddy?”

            “No,” Levine announced.  “But I’ll do it.  I just want to go home.  Get it over with and let me go, alright?”

            Sam nodded.  “Ok.  Slow deep breaths, just try to relax.”

            “Relax, right,” Levine grumbled quietly.  “You’re only sending my fucking _soul_ out of my body into some other version of me in another world, nothing to worry about!”  He shuddered.

            Blake stepped closer to Sam.  “Get it over with quick, Sam,” he advised under his breath.  “I don’t think he’s going to last much longer before he freaks and changes his mind about this.”

            “Yeah, I see that,” Sam murmured back.  “Alright, here we go.”

            It was only the second time Blake had seen an actual spell being cast since Cass had done the one to send him here what seemed like a lifetime ago.  But this one wasn’t nearly as dramatic.  Sam pulled a few pinches of this or that out of the various jars.  He chanted in some weird language as he mixed them together in his palms.  Then he opened his hands and blew the mixture through the flame of the candle.  Blake felt a puff of breeze pass through the room and shivered.  But nothing glowed.  And more importantly, Levine was still standing right where he was.

            But even with no visible sign that the spell had taken effect, Blake knew it immediately  when he was looking at his husband.  He sucked in his breath.  “Adam!”

            The sweet hazel eyes suddenly went wide.  “B-Blake?  _Blake!”_   Adam launched himself at Blake, threw his arms around his neck, and started frantically kissing him.  “Blake, you’re here!  You’re back!  How did you do it?  Dammit, Big Country, don’t you ever do that shit to me again!”

            “Rockstar,” Blake groaned, returning the kisses.  Adam’s tongue was doing amazing things in Blake’s mouth.  Blake bent his knees and gathered him up, one hand under Adam’s rear to support him, the other holding Adam tight against his chest.  Adam’s legs locked around Blake’s hips.  Adam’s hands were rough on Blake’s face and head.  Blake could barely breathe.  They were both gasping for air during the brief moments they broke their frantic kissing.  Blake forgot everything else, carrying Adam towards the door and whatever flat surface he could find.

            “Blake!”

            A strong hand on Blake’s arm, and Blake actually snarled.  Adam clung to him, his face buried under Blake’s chin.  But the Winchester brothers were here, what the fuck were they doing here?  Sam was pulling on Blake’s arm, and Dean blocking his path.

            “Blake, it’s not him!” Sam yelled.  “It’s him, but it’s not his body!  You can’t do this to him, not in this body!  And you have to talk to him, remember?  The plan, Blake!  You don’t have much time!”

            “What?  What?!”  Adam was trembling now, his eyes the size of saucers.  “What the hell is he saying?”  He frowned.  “You look awful, Big Country!  Blake, what’s going on?”

            For a moment, Blake had no idea.  But then memory returned.  Blake let loose a strangled cry that came straight from his gut, holding tight to his husband.  That frightened Adam even more.  When Blake forced himself to let Adam down, Adam’s face was white.  The smaller man was shaking as he clung to Blake, looking wide-eyed up at him for an explanation.

            Blake trembled, cupping Adam’s face and kissing his forehead.  “Listen to me, Rockstar,” he managed.  “We don’t have a whole lot of time, and there’s some things I gotta tell you.  The only way for me to get back is a spell, and we both have to…”

            “We both have to cast the spell at the same place at the same time,” Adam finished.  “Yeah, Castiel already figured that much out.”

            Blake sighed.  “So he’s still with you, huh?”

            “Um, yeah, and that might be a problem if another version of me just showed up there!”  Adam eyes shifted.

            Blake had no idea what that was about, but right now he had bigger concerns.  “The spell we’ll both need?  It needs a power source and a link to the other world on each side.  Cass can power your spell all by his holy self, but does he have a link back?”

            “No,” Adam confirmed.  “That’s our problem!”

            “And meanwhile, we got the opposite problem.  I had plenty on me to link back to our world, but we’re still looking for a power source!”

            But Adam was shaking his head.  “We can link up, but that’s not the problem, Blake!  Our problem is Castiel.  He says he can use us, the bond you and I have, to reach you, and he’s got the power to open the gateway.  But he can’t use it himself!  He needs a link to this world, and that’s probably gotta come from your end!  Can you help him, Big Country?  We need to get him back to…”  The hazel eyes flicked over Blake’s shoulder and rested on Dean.

            Blake blinked.  And then he laughed.  “Cass can use our link to each other to connect to me?  Dammit, Rockstar, that’s problem solved!  If he can use you and me and our feelings for each other, then he’s already got a way to link back to this world!  Just tell him to think fond thoughts of Dean-o back there!”

            Adam’s face immediately brightened, hope rising for the first time.  He smiled at Dean.  “That’s perfect!  You’re his Righteous Man, and you two can link together just like Blake and I can!”

            Blake glanced at Dean, and was alarmed to see the way Dean shifted his weight and looked away.  But he couldn’t deal with that now.

            Sam was frowning.  “A link to an individual person would actually have to be in both directions on both sides to work,” he mused.  “A mutual bond from each world, drawing the other end across?  That really could work!  Once both pairs focused...?”

            “Nice idea, but it’s not going to work,” Dean called, not looking up.  “We’re going to have to find something else.”

            Adam’s face twisted into a scowl.  “There isn’t anything else!  What the hell is wrong with you?!  Your angel needs your help to get home, and if you don’t…?”

            Blake shushed him with a kiss.  “I’ll work on this end, you work on yours, ok?” he advised.  “But we gotta plan this.  Same time and place, on the night of a full moon!  You know that park?”

            “Of course I know the park!” Adam replied immediately.  He smiled shyly.  “Where you proposed to me, right, Blake?  I could find that in any world!  What time?”

            “Can you be there to cast the spell at 9pm?” Blake suggested.  He tightened his arms around Adam.  “Moon will be big and bright then.  We can get Cass back home to Dean, and then you and I can go for a nice romantic stroll?”

            Adam’s glorious hazel eyes twinkled mischievously.  “It’s a date!”

            “One more thing,” Blake added.  “There’s an asshole over here called Crowley, the King of Hell.  Cass will know who he is.  For some reason, he wants to pass over into our world.  Y’all need to be prepared for that, just in case!”

            Adam nodded.  “I’ll tell Castiel.  But I’m not worrying about it, Blake.  All I want is for you to come home!”  He gently stroked Blake’s cheek.  “What’s the matter, Big Country?  You look terrible!”

            “I’m ok,” Blake managed, catching Adam’s hand and kissing his fingers.  “I just really miss you!”

            Sam cleared his throat.  “Dean, why don’t you and I step back for a moment, let these two say goodbye?”

            “Goodbye?”  Adam’s face paled once more.  “Wait, you’re sending me back?  No!”

            “Not his choice, Rockstar.”  Blake cupped the back of Adam’s head and pulled him close as the brothers kindly moved away.  “We sent this world’s version of you, his soul, out to your body and you’re in his.  And that can’t last much longer!”

            “No, please!”  The cry tore from Adam’s throat.  “Blake, I don’t want to go back without you!  Please, let me stay!”

            Blake squeezed his eyes tightly shut.  “I’m sorry, baby.  But I can’t.”

            “Then come home!” Adam demanded.  His hand fisted, pounded on Blake’s chest.  “Come home to me, Blake!”

            Blake’s heart was breaking.  “We’ll find a way.  I’ll get home, I swear it!  In a couple weeks…”

            “I need you _now,_ dammit!” Adam insisted.  “Not in a couple of weeks!  What the fuck do you want from me?!  I get to see you for a moment, then I’m sent away and have to face yet another night without you?  It’s cruel!  Please, Blake!  Please come home!”

            Blake gently kissed his husband’s temple, burying his fingers in Adam’s short hair.  “Adam, do you remember when I’d be on tour and I’d call you, and you’d tell me you couldn’t wait for me to come home?” he asked.  “You remember that song I sang?”

            “Yeah,” Adam sniffed.  “Sing it now, would you, Big Country?”

            Blake smiled.  _“I'm already there,”_ he sang softly.  _“Take a look around!  I'm the sunshine in your hair, I'm the shadow on the ground!  I'm the whisper in the wind.  I'm your imaginary friend.  And I know I'm in your prayers, oh I'm already there!”_

            Almost immediately, tension drained out of Adam’s body.  He looked up at Blake and softly sang.  _“Wish I was in your arms lying right there beside you.  But I know that I'll be in your dreams tonight.”_

            _“And I'll gently kiss your lips,”_ Blake picked up.  _“Touch you with my fingertips.  So turn out the light and close your eyes.”_

            Adam managed a smile.  He hugged Blake tightly, taking the melody while Blake dropped to harmony.  _“I'm already there.  Don't make a sound!  I'm the beat in your heart.  I'm the moonlight shining down.  I'm the whisper in the wind, and I'll be there until the end.  Can you feel the love that we share?  Oh, I'm already there!”_

            Adam tucked his head under Blake’s chin.  The fingers of one hand curled into Blake’s collar, while the other clutched at Blake’s back.  “I love you,” he called.

            “I love you, too,” Blake whispered.  “And don’t you worry.  I’ll come back to you.”

            Blake held tight to Adam, whispering words of love, until he felt a hand gently take his shoulder.  “Let him go, Blake,” Sam said softly.  “That’s not your husband anymore.”

            Blake glanced down.  He’d expected Levine to struggle when he returned, to fight and demand to be set free as he’d done when they’d kidnapped him.  But this world’s version of Adam hadn’t moved.  He’d remained just as Adam had been, pressed against Blake’s chest with his head under Blake’s chin.  He stirred now.  “Let me go,” he said softly.

            Blake let him go, wiping at his streaming eyes with his sleeves.  “Sorry,” he said.  “You should have said something.”

            “It’s ok,” Levine said.  He rubbed at the back of his neck.  Then, to Blake’s surprise, he reached out a hand and tentatively put it on Blake’s chest.  When Blake blinked at him, he ducked his head and quickly dropped his hand.  “Sorry.  It’s just that no one...  No one’s ever... held me like that before.  Not even my ex-wife!  It was…”  He swallowed hard.  “It was nice.  You really do love him!  He’s a lucky guy.”

            Blake cleared his throat.  “Listen, buddy, you don’t have to be alone, ok?  What you want, or who you want?  That’s something that needs to be decided by your heart, not your career or your image!  I made that mistake and it almost cost me the best thing in my life.  You don’t have to be alone or pretend to be something you’re not, ok?  You’re allowed to be happy!”

            “Thanks for the advice.”  Levine managed a shy smile.  Then he ducked his head and stepped quickly away from Blake, moving to Sam.  He cleared his throat.  “You said you’d let me go now?” he asked, his voice somewhat gruff.

            “Yeah,” Sam agreed, glancing at Blake.  “In a moment here, you’re gonna be pretty exhausted!  So as soon as you’re ready, I’ll blindfold you again and get you back out to the car.  Then I’ll drive you out to a motel room so you can rest.  We’ll have a car waiting for you when you wake up.  You can go wherever you want from there.”  He paused, looking speculatively at Levine, seeing how the country star kept glancing back at Blake.  Sam nodded, as if he’d come to a decision about something.  “Give me a moment, would you?”

            “Alright?”  Levine’s entire face was a question mark.

            Sam darted out of the room.

            Levine watched him go, and then again looked back at Blake.  He met Blake’s eyes briefly, his expression unreadable.  Then the color rose in Levine’s cheeks and he tore his eyes away to fix them on Dean.  “Dean?” he called.

            Dean had been pacing around, chewing on his lip with his brow furled.  Now he paused, looking at Levine.  “Yeah?”

            “Um, your angel?” Levine began. 

            “Yeah, I’m dying to know!” Dean exclaimed.  “Did you see Cass?  Is he ok?  Did he say anything?”

            Levine swallowed.  “Actually…  He gave me something for you.”

            That got Blake’s attention.  Dean looked as confused as Blake felt.  “Dude, your soul traveled, not your body,” Dean reminded.  “Whatever he gave you is still in that other world!”

            “Kind of, yes, but, um…”  Levine’s face had colored again.  “Look, can I just give it to you before I lose my nerve?”

            Dean tilted his head to one side and raised an eyebrow.  “…Alright?”

            Levine took a deep breath.  Then he grabbed Dean’s shoulders, pulled the surprised hunter forward, and planted a deep, noisy kiss right on Dean’s mouth.  The green eyes opened wide.  By the time Levine pulled away, Dean’s face was burning.  “Dude!” Dean protested, rubbing at his mouth.

            “He’s an angel!” Levine protested, grimacing and rubbing at his own mouth.  “You’re good-looking and all, buddy, but believe me, this was not my idea!  Cass planted one on me and made me promise to bring it back to you.  And I am _not_ pissing that guy off again, ok?!  He has got some serious impulse control issues!”  He scowled fiercely, glaring between Blake and Dean.  “For the record, you guys are assholes!  You said he was an angel, and I was expecting Roma Downy!  No one told me he was a homicidal maniac!”

            Dean was finally starting to recover.  “Wait, what?!”

            “Crazy bastard went after me with one of those big silver dagger things like you were using on the demons!” Levine exclaimed.  “I just got into that body and was still dealing with the disorientation when, bam!  He suddenly had me pinned against a wall with that thing at my throat, demanding to know who I was!  I had to do some fast talking!  And he didn’t have on any damned suit and trench coat, either.  You were describing a cubicle dweller in some office, but he looked more like he was in a biker gang!  There was a whole bunch of tough-looking guys there, and even they freaked right the fuck out when Cass went all angel of death on me!  I thought I was going to fucking die!”  He shook his head, ignoring the wide-eyed stares of the two men.  “Oh, he said a couple of things, once he understood who I was.”  Levine frowned, tapping the crook of a finger against his chin.  “Something about Blake’s soul isn’t intact?  That mean anything to you?”

            “What?” Blake called, echoing Dean.

            “Guess not.  Oh, he also said Blake doesn’t have much time, that he won’t make it to the full moon.  Sounded kind of ominous, dude, you might want to look into that.  He said some asshole over here could help you, and you should make a deal with him.  Someone named Connely or something like that?”

            “Yeah, we know who he means.”  Dean was scowling now.  “Anything else we need to know?”

            “Just that you should honestly think again about bringing that crazy angel back here.  He was all blazing eyes and big black wings, growling at me that he was gonna burn me out of that body, and I gotta tell you, it’s a good thing other me had an empty bladder, or it would have gotten really fucking messy!  I seriously think he was going to kill me if I hadn’t managed to talk very very fast!”  Levine shuddered and eyed Dean.  “You like a challenge, don’t you, buddy?  When he’s not all avenging angel, he’s kind of hot, dude, I’ll admit that.  But you seriously might want to think about a new boyfriend.  That angel is scary as fuck!”

            Dean’s face looked like a disaster area.

            Levine ignored him.  “Oh, thank God,” he moaned, seeing Sam return.  “Please get me out of here?  And the next time you need to talk to that lunatic angel, don’t call me!”

            “We couldn’t use you again if we wanted to, but we’ll keep our word and stay away from you.  Thanks, man.  Meanwhile, here.”  Sam, oblivious to everything that had just taken place, was holding a folded slip of paper.  He handed it to Levine.

            “What’s this?” Levine replied, frowning down at it.  “Who’s Blake Shelton?”

            “Just someone you might want to look up later.  Come on, let’s go.  Whoa, here we go, crash time!” Sam called, catching Levine as he suddenly slumped.  “I got you, just relax.  Guess I don’t need to blindfold you after all.  Can you walk?  Hmm, not really, huh?  Ok, let me carry you out to the car...”

            “I got him.”  Blake ignored the warning looks he was getting and quickly scooped Levine up.  Levine was only barely conscious.  His head lolled and came to a rest against Blake’s shoulder.

            Blake quickly carried the smaller man out to the car.  Once again, it was pouring rain.  But not even the cold rain really roused Levine.  The bleary hazel eyes blinked open once when Blake carefully laid him down in the back seat of Sam’s car.  Then they closed again.  Sam clapped him on the arm, climbed into the car, and drove off.

            For a time, Blake simply stood as he was, staring after them, heedless of the rain that quickly soaked through his clothes.  Then a hand took his shoulder.  “Blake?” Dean began.  “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now.  But it’s pouring out here, dude.  Why don’t you come inside, dry off a little, and get control of yourself, huh?”

            Blake opened his mouth to tell Dean he was fine, thank you very much.  But of course he wasn’t.  He nodded and followed the hunter back inside.  He managed to make it inside before he staggered, fell into the wall, and slid down it to a seated position.  He threw back his head and let out his emotions in a howl that tore at his throat.  Then he simply collapsed into a heap.

            Dean quietly fetched a towel.  He sat next to Blake and handed him the towel.  He stayed as he was, sitting next to Blake without a word, letting Blake cry himself out.  And after a time, Blake’s sobs finally ceased.

            “I’m damned proud of you, Blake,” Dean told him.  “I said it before, and it bears repeating.  You’re one of the strongest men I’ve ever met, buddy.”

            “He said, to the guy who just had a crying fit on the floor,” Blake grumbled.  He mopped at his face and hair with the towel and sat up.

            Dean shrugged.  “Sometimes it takes more strength to let yourself cry, especially if you’re a big strong cowboy.”

            Blake nodded, conceding the point.  “I’m sure this comes as no surprise, since it’s pretty much my natural state of being anymore, but I’m beat.  I’m gonna turn in.  But what about you?” he asked Dean.  “What are you going to do?”

            “Research, I guess,” Dean sighed.  “Try to figure out what the hell happened to your soul.  And we still have to find some way to connect the worlds.  Then I guess we can try that Daly guy to let Cass know…”

            “Dean, what are you talking about?” Blake exclaimed.  “If Cass can use the link between me and Adam, then he can use the one between him and you, too!”

            “No, he can’t,” Dean told him.  “Because there isn’t one, Blake.  I’m sorry.”

            “What?!”

            “I’m real fond of Cass,” Den explained.  “He’s like a brother to me, and I do love him.  But I’m not _in love_  with him.  I’m not, ok?  No matter how many times you all try to tell me I am, I am _not_ in love with Cass!  So I gotta find another way to get you both home, ‘cause I’m not it.”  And with that, Dean turned and started towards the library.

            Blake swore and threw the towel on the ground.  “Dean, you stubborn son of a bitch!” he called, struggling to his feet.  “I ought to...  Whoa...”

            The world tilted, and suddenly Blake was on the floor.  Everything became grey and fuzzy.  His heart pounded in his chest.  He could hear Dean calling his name from somewhere far away.  The hunter sounded frantic.  _It’s ok, buddy,_ he thought.  _This has happened before, and I was bound to hit the floor sooner or later from ‘em!  But it’s fine.  Just another damned spell.  It’ll wear off.  I’ll be..._

            Dean’s voice faded away, and the rest of the world faded with him until everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun said Blake was being very naughty with Levine’s body and knows he wasn’t supposed to. Thought Adam was being whiny and if the author had been gone for two weeks he’d enjoy the peace and quiet. Got a dirty look. Said that what Cass said about Blake’s soul was scary. Doesn’t understand why Cass said to make a deal with Crowley. Dean is in denial. Way in denial. Doesn’t know what his problem is. Thinks Blake is really in trouble now!


	19. Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake is getting worse, and everyone believes it's because of Dean's angel. Dean isn't so sure.

            Dean bent over his laptop at the table, a stack of books on the floor next to him.  The research was necessary, of course.  But at the same time, it also provided a convenient shield.  If he was busy with research, that meant he wouldn’t have to interact with Blake.

            Dean had no idea how to act around Blake.  Seeing the cowboy drop had been terrifying.  Dean had been alone in the bunker, and nothing he did could bring Blake back around.  Then when he’d finally opened his eyes again, Blake hadn’t been making sense.  Dean had been terrified that Blake had just had a stroke.  He was on the phone with Bobby, demanding Bobby get his ass out to the bunker _right fucking now_ when Blake finally started to seem normal again.  But Blake wasn’t back to normal.  He always seemed exhausted.  He was easily confused and forgetful, once walking out into the kitchen and standing there for ten minutes because he’d completely forgotten why he’d gone out there.  Even when he seemed reasonably alright, his face looked weary and somehow older.  Dean waited on him hand and foot, hovered in case he needed anything.  But he didn’t know what to say.  When the blue eyes looked at him, Blake only smiled and was as friendly as ever.  Even now, Blake was nothing but charming.  But guilt was eating Dean up inside.

            In the days since the spell with Levine, Sammy spent a lot of time with the big man.  At first, he’d been running tests, as many as the cowboy would tolerate.  But lately, as near as Dean could tell, Sammy wasn’t really saying or doing much with him.  He sat with Blake on the couch as Blake would watch TV or read or do whatever it was he did on the internet, just hanging out with the cowboy while he continued his own research.  At least, he did while Blake was awake.  Lately, Blake was asleep more often than not.  Bobby swung by for a visit, and that was a little better.  He’d taken Blake on a walk, and Blake had seemed exhausted, yet happier when they returned.  But for his part, Dean felt awkward.  How, exactly, do you act around someone who surely blamed you for keeping him from going home?  Blake, Cass, and Adam were all counting on Dean being able to link up with Cass to complete the spell.  But they were all banking on emotions Dean just didn’t have!  And that was proving to be a serious problem.  He knew that, without that powerful emotional link, the spell wouldn’t work.  But that required genuine emotion!  It wasn’t something he could just fake!

            Then there was what Cass had told Levine.

            Cass was the best friend Dean had ever had.  He felt closer to his angel sometimes than he even felt to Sammy!  But sometimes, if Cass’s feathers hadn’t been burned off by Metatron and his bullshit, Dean thought he could cheerfully pluck them all out.  This was one of those times.  What the hell had that idiot done that had ended up tearing bits out of Blake’s soul?!  Dean knew his angel had gone to Crowley, against Dean’s better judgment, for assistance with the efreet.  Dean also knew that Sammy still believed that Crowley was somehow responsible for the mess Blake and Cass were currently in, even though Blake had admitted that had happened by accident.  But no one could figure out the messages Cass had sent through Levine.  Blake’s soul wasn’t intact?  He wouldn’t make it to the full moon?  How ominous could you get?  That was bad enough.  But then it was compounded by the impossible - Cass telling them to go to Crowley.  Crowley!  The only thing Dean could imagine that would be less likely than Cass telling him to go to Crowley would be Cass telling him to go to the hosts of Heaven.  It was insane!  All Dean could figure was that Cass had made some sort of contingency plan with Crowley in case something went wrong, which it clearly had.  Dean just wished his angel had confided in Dean before the shit hit the fan.  Of course, Cass couldn’t possibly have known something like this would happen, that Blake would accidentally steal Cass’s ticket home and end up on the short end of the stick.  But a little communication would be useful!

            Ok, maybe that was the pot calling the kettle black.

            Speaking of communication, the bullshit about Cass being his boyfriend had gone on long enough.  Sammy, Bobby, other hunters, demons, even other angels had commented about their relationship!  Everyone kept putting their noses where they didn’t belong, and now it was giving Blake and his husband false hope.  It seemed even Cass was confused!  Dean knew he should have put an end to it long ago, before things got to this point.  But it wasn’t like he’d done nothing!  He’d given enough dirty looks and eye rolls at the boyfriend comments that Dean felt it should have been clear enough.  But Cass was no help at all.  Every time Dean had tried to deny that Cass treated him differently than others, Cass had said or done something to directly contradict it.  He’d even pissed off Sammy by not responding to Sammy’s calls, and then going on about how he had a “special bond” with Dean when Sammy accused him of favoritism.  Ok, so Cass favored Dean.  Dean couldn’t blame him for that.  Hell, Crowley favored Dean, too, but no one accused the two of them of dating, did they?!  Primarily, that was because Dean was the only one with any respect at all for the King of Hell.  Sammy despised the demon, and Bobby could barely say a civil word to him.  Dean didn’t trust Crowley much farther than he could throw him either, but at least with Crowley, you knew where you stood.  That was something Dean couldn’t say about the God Mob.  Even Cass had lied to Dean’s face and betrayed him.  That had hurt more than Dean was willing to let anyone know.

            Ok, be truthful.  Dean missed his angel.  He missed him so much it was like a deep, aching pain in his chest.  Over and over again, Dean found himself looking for Cass, or about to call him, only to remember his angel wasn’t there.  Then the pain would come again.  Dean would do whatever it took to help Blake get back to his husband.  But he couldn’t deny how much his own heart longed to see his angel again.

            That did not mean he was gay.  He was allowed to miss his friend.  It didn’t mean anything more.

            Almost as if on cue, the door opened and Blake strolled in, closely followed by Sammy with Bobby bringing up the rear.  As usual, the sight of Blake and his brother walking together made Dean smile.  The two were ridiculously tall.  Bobby, following the two giants, looked amusingly short.

            “Dean?” Bobby called, moving past the taller men.  “Let’s talk.”

            Ok, that didn’t seem good.  Dean switched off his laptop and set it aside, giving his full attention to the three men as they all gathered at his table.  “Spill it,” he called, already feeling uneasy.

            “Dean, I know you don’t want to hear this,” Sammy began.  “And you’ll probably react just as badly as you usually do.  But it’s painfully clear that Cass did something stupid.  Now Blake’s paying the price for it!”

            “You’re talking about what Levine said?” Dean said.  “Yeah, I got that.  Look, Cass isn’t an idiot, and he’d never willingly put Blake in danger.  Even Blake said that what happened was an accident!”

            “We’re talking about what’s still happening right now,” Bobby clarified.

            “I kind of feel like I’ve been dragged down a road behind a truck,” Blake admitted.  “I really felt it when I first came through to here, but then I sort of got used to it, and it wasn’t too bad.  But it seems like I’m just getting worse and worse as time goes by.  It’s not a physical thing, not really.  I just feel sort of drained.  Wrung out.”  He shook his head.  “Like I told you before, something’s wrong with me, Dean.  Hell, I’m so messed up now that I got completely confused about your world’s version of Adam!  You saw how I was!  Scared the shit out of the poor guy!  And it’s not just fatigue.  I feel like I’m losing my mind!  I can’t focus, can’t concentrate, and every so often, I just sort of...”  Blake made brushing motions with his hands.  “Out to lunch I go!  And I don’t know what to do, how to deal with this, because I know I’m not sick.  Physically, I’m fine!”

            “What Levine said, about Blake’s soul being incomplete?” Sammy said.  “I-it matches up with what all the tests I’ve run are showing.  And unfortunately, the other thing Levine said Cass told him?  That’s checking out, too.”  Sammy’s green eyes were full of concern as he glanced at Blake.  “I’m sorry, Blake, but you’re not physically fine.  Whatever is happening to you, it’s not like anything we’ve seen before.  This isn’t just a spiritual thing.  Your vitals are starting to slip!  You keep having irregular heartbeats.  Your blood pressure is all over the map!  Y-you admitted you’ve been having dizzy spells and near-fainting episodes well before you passed out on us this last time?  You are anything but fine!  Your body is starting to show some real physical strain!”

            “I’m running out of time,” Blake said quietly.  The big cowboy was slumped in his chair, leaning heavily on the table.  “Your angel’s right, Dean.  I’m not gonna make it to the full moon, not the rate I’m going!”

            “Yes, you will!” Dean insisted.  “We just gotta figure out what happened, and how we can stop it.”  He looked between Bobby and Sammy.  “We got any leads?”

            “We think there was something extra on that hex bag,” Bobby said.  “Something Cass knew about.  I think that idjit actually set it up!  But whatever it was or why the hell he did it, that’s why Blake’s in trouble.  And that’s why Cass is telling us to go to Crowley now!”

            “The hex bag?”  Dean got up, went to his room, and returned with his coat.  He produced the bag of items from the hex bag from his pocket and dropped it on the table.  “There it is, for what it’s worth.  Sorry, but I kind of doubt we can find another cloth soaked with angel’s tears to wrap it with!”

            “And we don’t know what Cass offered Crowley to get his help in the first place,” Bobby pointed out.

            “Crowley owed him one,” Dean explained.  “Cass told us that when he went to see him, remember?”

            “Dean, since when does Crowley ever do anything unless there’s some way it benefits him?” Sammy asked.

            “It did benefit him!” Dean defended.  “Crowley owed Cass in the first place, remember?  Cass was just calling in the favor!  Crowley helped him to clear a debt!”  Dean glowered, seeing the looks that Sammy and Bobby were exchanging.  “What is this?  Why’s everyone so eager to believe that my angel did something underhanded?!  No, I see you all looking at each other,” Dean continued, holding up a hand.  “This is why you all decided to have your little powwow without me before you came in here, isn’t it?  Because you’re all ready to throw Cass under the bus and believe he did something stupid that’s hurting Blake now!  You all…!”

            “Dean!”  Bobby’s voice was sharp and instantly snapped Dean out of his rant.  “Look at Blake, would you?  Just look at him!”  Bobby indicated Blake.  “He sleeps all the time, he barely eats, he’s exhausted!  You called me in a panic because you couldn’t wake him up and you thought he’d had a stroke.  Yesterday, he called me ‘Carson.’  And he’s referred to you as ‘Adam’ twice, Dean.  Twice!  Blake is in serious trouble, and he’s only getting worse!  Now Cass is the one who said that Blake is missing part of his soul.  And he is also the one who said we needed to go to Crowley and make a deal to help him!  This isn’t a conspiracy theory, it’s fact!”

            “No one wants to think poorly of your angel, Dean,” Blake assured.  “Hell, I don’t even know the guy!  First and only time I saw him, he was throwing me across my own living room, and I still don’t want to think poorly of him!  But there’s something you’re not considering, buddy.  Something’s wrong with me, that much is obvious.  Even before anyone told me anything, I’d been wondering what the hell was going on with me.  But there’s two of us involved here in all this!  Yeah, obviously Cass did something, and it’s apparently fucking me over.  But has anyone considered that maybe this is so bad not because of any deal Cass made, but because I’m a damned unicorn?  Dean, you said that makes Cass even more of a unicorn back in my world!  So if I’m feeling like this here, who’s to say your angel isn’t feeling just as shitty, or even worse, back in my world?  That might explain some of the things Levine said, wouldn’t it?”

            That hit Dean hard.  “Cass needs to come home just as much as we need to get you back,” he realized.  “That’s why he told us to talk to Crowley!  And that’s why he was acting so weird when Levine saw him!  You’re right!  Something’s wrong with my angel!”  He fumbled his cell phone out of his pocket.

            “Whoa, Dean, hold on a moment!” Sammy cautioned, grabbing the phone.  “What are you doing?”

            “Calling Crowley!” Dean exclaimed.  “Let’s get his smoky ass up here and kick it until he tells us what the fuck he did to Cass and Blake!”

            “That’s worked so well in the past, hasn’t it, Dean?” Bobby sighed.

            “Crowley’s got something from my world, a magazine I’m in,” Blake explained.  “The main article is all about me, so it’s a pretty serious link to me and to my world.”

            “Does it have pictures in it?” Bobby asked.

            Blake nodded.  “Of me, of Adam, and of some of my friends and family.”

            “Then it’s a strong physical link to your reality,” Bobby sighed.  “Especially if it has pictures of people in your world!”

            “Now I wish I’d taken the time to teach Cass how to take pictures on his phone!” Sammy groaned.  “Then he could have used it to link back here!”

            “Adam said it was broken anyway,” Blake offered.  “But I was talking about that magazine.  Crowley said he got it because Cass asked Rowena to put an extra spell on that hex bag, one that would bring back something connected to any world Cass ended up trapped in.  The idea was that it could be used to form a link, just like we were going to do with my belt buckle.  So we know there was one extra enchantment on that hex bag.  But the way Crowley acted, what he said?  I’m thinking there may have been two!  And it’s the last one that’s causing all the trouble!”  Blake indicated the bag of bits.  “What is all that?  Anything in there that could maybe explain what happened?”

            Dean carefully dumped the bits out onto the table.  “The original cloth covering is nothing more than a tattered rag,” he explained as he pointed it out.  “The power from the angel’s tears is long gone.  But I kept it anyway, just because.  There’s these herbs, we got all those right here at the bunker.  These bones are fine, we can probably use them again.  The coins are the same.”

            “Let me see those coins,” Bobby called.

            Dean slid the coins over and Bobby squinted at them.  “Know that one, know that one, no idea what that one is.  What’s this last one?”  He handed it to Sammy.  “Why’s that sigil look so familiar?”

            Sammy looked at the coin, and his eyebrows shot up.  “Because it’s one of the sigils Kevin Tran sent us, that’s why!” he declared.  “From the angel and demon tablets!  It’s a power siphon, one of the options we were looking at as a way to fuel this spell to open the portal!”

            “Power siphon?”  Dean reached for the coin and frowned at the sigil.  “What kind of power?”

            “Any kind of spiritual power, really,” Bobby explained.  He got up, fetched a book, and returned, leafing through the pages.  “Here it is.  This is a basic power siphon, kind of like a battery for spiritual power.  It could be used to drain ghosts, spiritual creatures like the efreet, even angels or demons.  This must have been the power source for the hex bag.”

            Sammy frowned at the coin.  “You know, this could have very easily drained Cass!  Maybe it’s good he doesn’t have it anymore?”

            “That got something to do with what’s been happening to me?” Blake asked.

            “I don’t see how it could have anything to do with you, honestly,” Dean said.  He scooped the bits back into the plastic bag, shoved the bag back into his coat pocket, and then indicated it to the others.  “I’ve been carrying this around in my pocket since the day we fought that damned efreet, and nothing!”

            “Not the smartest move, Dean,” Bobby called.

            Dean gave a dismissive wave.  “My point is, if it drained either of us, it should have been me.  And I’m fine!”  He poked at the sigil in Bobby’s book.  “I’m betting this was the power source for the bag, but it’s pretty much useless right now.  A sigil’s just a squiggly line until it’s activated.  With nothing to activate that coin, it’s harmless.”

            “So what do we do?” Blake wanted to know.

            “Well, the only one who could find out for sure what’s going on with your soul is currently trapped in your world,” Sammy told him.  “Cass could have reached in and physically checked your soul, told us exactly what was wrong with it.”

            “Angel cavity search!”  Dean shuddered.  “Trust me, Blake, you do not want that!”

            “Dude, I’m the one who had it done!” Sammy exclaimed.  “I wouldn’t wish it on Crowley!  Well, maybe on Crowley.  But certainly not on Blake!”

            “Crowley’s cavities are safe for now,” Dean grumbled.  “With my angel out of the picture, we’re seeing just how spoiled we really were!  Come on, guys, what did we do before we had Cass?  How can we find out what’s happening to Blake and, more importantly, how to stop it?”

            “Sure wish we could talk to Cass again,” Blake grumbled.  “Maybe we could use Carson?”

            “Maybe, but there’s something we haven’t considered.”  Sammy sighed, looking glum.  “Cass gave us those two messages, about Blake’s soul, and to talk to Crowley.  Cass knew something was wrong with Blake, and it stands to reason he knows exactly what that is.  If there was a way we could reverse whatever’s happening to Blake, don’t you think Cass would have told us that?”

            “He would have told us if there was,” Dean agreed.

            “And he wouldn’t tell us to go to Crowley!”  Sammy raised his hands.  “I hate to say this.  But I think we need to give serious consideration to letting Dean call him.”

            Bobby made a face.  “We bring that bastard in, all he’ll do is make it a thousand times worse!”

            “Chance we gotta take,” Dean declared.  “Blake’s already in trouble, and if Cass is affected too, how do we know he’ll be able to power the spell on his end?”  He shook his head.  “Blake’s in bad shape, and I can’t risk something happening to my angel too because we dicked around!  Give me the phone, Sammy.  I’m dialing 666!”

            “There’s gotta be another way!” Bobby insisted.

            “Bobby, Cass knows exactly what this spell is and what it’s doing to Blake,” Dean urged.  “He told us to go to Crowley.  We have to trust him, ok?”

            “Dammit, Dean, how do we know if what Levine told us even came from Cass?!” Bobby exclaimed.  “You said yourself that Levine was completely surrounded by Crowley’s goons when you grabbed him.  What the hell do you think he went back to?!  Did it never occur to you idjits that Crowley could have coached Levine to tell us exactly what he wanted us to hear?”

            That quieted Dean.  But Blake was shaking his head.  “I know he wasn’t Adam, but at the same time, he was,” he declared.  “And Adam is the worst actor I’ve ever met!  Whatever happened over there, he was scared shitless of Cass!  He didn’t understand what it was he was telling us, but you can be damned sure it was pretty much word for word what Cass told him to say.”

            “He was doing a fairly believable impression of being a decent guy when you joked with him on the stage,” Sammy pointed out quietly.  “And we found out quick that wasn’t the case.”

            “He wasn’t lying about this,” Blake insisted.  “I know it!  What he told us came from Cass!  I’m with Dean.  We should call Crowley, and at least listen to what he’s got to say.”

            Sammy rubbed his hands over his face.  He nodded.  “I agree.”

            “Fine,” Bobby growled.  “Be it on your own heads!  Give him the phone, Sammy.”

            Dean accepted the phone and dialed.  Crowley answered immediately.  “Squirrel!” he exclaimed in the oily voice that always made Dean’s skin crawl.  “How lovely to hear from you!”

            “Crowley?” Dean said.  “We need to talk.”

            “Of course!  I’m right outside.  I figured you’d want to have a chat once you came to your senses.  Be a dear and open the door, would you?”

            Dean hung up the phone.  “He’s outside,” he reported.

            “I should have known,” Bobby grumbled.  He got up.  “I’ll get him.”

            “I’ll get the angel blades and the holy water,” Dean announced.

            “How about we try just talking to him first?” Blake suggested.  “See what he’s got to say?  We can go to the ‘1984’ shit after.”

            “What happened in 1984?” Dean asked.

            Blake stared at him.  “George Orwell?”

            “Who?”

            Sam facepalmed.

            “Never mind.”  Blake got up.  “Come on, guys.  Bobby?  We’re coming with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun totally agreed with Dean’s plan to kick Crowley’s smoky ass. Thinks it’s a great plan. Thinks they should do that plan and is glad to be part of it. Is worried that that power siphon thing was meant to drain Cass and screw him over somehow. Was not surprised Crowley was right outside.


	20. The Duplicity of Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is ready to deal, and knows he's holding all the cards

            The King of Hell was clearly in his element.  He was standing, immaculately dressed in his black suit as always, a short distance away from the bunker, out of range of the wardings.  His cheerful smile of welcome immediately soured Dean’s mood even further.

            Crowley had brought along a bottle of scotch.  Dean snatched it out of his hands and helped himself without invitation, and then passed the bottle to Blake.  “What’s wrong with Blake?” Dean asked.

            “Hello to you too, darlings, so lovely to see you all?”  Crowley paused, seeing four sets of hostile eyes glowering at him, and sighed.  “So dramatic.  And I was so happy when ‘Not Moose’ popped up on my phone!”  He grinned, ambled closer to Dean.  “What do you say, Squirrel?  You and me, little road trip?”

            “Dean’s not going anywhere with you,” Bobby announced before Dean could reply.  He accepted the bottle of scotch from Blake, took a swig, and glowered through his beard at Crowley.  “Whatever you gotta say, you can say it right here!”

            Crowley pouted.  “But I wanted some special time with my special friend!”  His fingers walked along Dean’s arm to snake around his wrist and give his arm a little shake.  “Come on, Dean-o, you know you feel it too!” he called as Dean frowned and pulled away.  “What do you say we blow this popsicle stand, huh?  You and me, a little howl at the moon?”

            “Crowley, leave my brother alone, come inside, sit down, and answer the question!” Sammy ordered.  “And keep your hands to yourself!”

            Dean smirked.  Sammy hated Crowley, and it was never more apparent than when Crowley tried to pull Dean away for any reason.  But Blake was giving him an odd look, the blue eyes moving from Dean to Sammy, flicking over to Bobby, and then resting hard on Crowley.

            Crowley rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  Then how about you, me, and the cowboy, Squirrel?  Mr. Shelton can serve as chaperone, just to make the Moose feel better!  Think we can hit the Mexican border before sunrise?  How about Vegas, you lads ever been to Vegas?”

            “How about you just get inside, Crowley?”  Bobby’s voice made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion.

            Crowley appeared to consider, rubbing at his chin.  “Come inside, into the heavily warded Men of Letters bunker, where I have so many lovely memories of what you lot did to me the last time?  No, I think I’ll pass.”  He shuddered, eyeing the bunker.  “This place has so much warding on it that frankly it’s making my skin crawl just being near it.  And I’m all too aware of the sort of firepower you’ve got inside, just waiting to be used against me.  No, darlings, I’m afraid I have to insist on a change of scenery for our little chat.  I’ll take Squirrel and Sexy, and Moose and Captain Caveman over there can go back inside and play Canasta together while they wait.”

            “Well, see, that tells me that you really wanted to run off with both me and Dean in the first place,” Blake announced.  “Well, we’re not going anywhere with you.  And you’re afraid to come inside?  It seems to me, we have a bit of a Mexican stand-off here!”

            Crowley laughed.  “Not hardly!  Need I remind you, you called me?  I’ve been out here the last couple of days since Levine went back and quite rudely played that bloody fucking exorcism recording the Moose gave him over the intercom system in his house on repeat for four hours until every one of my people had to evacuate!  Positively uncivilized!  Now he’s got an anti-possession tattoo, he’s got demon traps under every doormat, and he won’t speak to anyone unless they drink something he’s laced with holy water!”  The demon shook his head and tsked.  “Obviously, it was all your influence.  I assumed you’d been successful, and managed to communicate with your precious blue-eyed angel?  Since Dean’s darling little Cassie is always so trustworthy, naturally I assumed he’d told you the truth.  Of course, that meant you’d finally figured out that I’d been telling you the truth all along!”  He shook a finger at Blake.  “Duplicity of angels, just as I said, Sexy!”

            Blake crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at him.

            “So I came out here,” Crowley continued, undeterred.  “I knew, after you’d hemmed and hawed over it for a bit, that you’d finally realize that good old Crowley was right all along.  And that’s why I’ve been right here, waiting for your call like a lovesick schoolboy!  And what do I get?  Agro!”  He sighed dramatically.  “Anyone else would have advised you all to go get buggered and went back to managing Hell.  Be glad I’m a very patient man!  But I can afford to be patient.  I’m not the one with the urgent need, now, am I?  Personally, I’m happy to wait until the next full moon, give you plenty of time to think it over.”  He smiled up at Blake.  “Of course, you’ll be dead by then, but we can’t have everything, now, can we?”

            “Dead?”  Blake’s eyebrows shot up.

            “Fine!” Dean snapped.  “Let’s go, Crowley, you and me.”

            “You and me,” Crowley corrected, “and him.”  He pointed at Blake.  “Sexy’s smarter than he looks.  I’m afraid I must insist on the both of you.”

            “Not a chance!” Bobby snapped.  “If you think we’ll just...”

            “We’ll go,” Dean sighed.

            Crowley beamed.  “Great choice!”

            “What?!” Sammy exclaimed, gaping at Dean.

            Blake blinked.  “What are we doing now?  Dean, I trust you, buddy, but are we seriously letting this fucker take us?!”

            “Rude!”

            Dean held up a hand towards Crowley and scowled at Blake.  “I’m sorry, Blake.  But we gotta do what he asks here.  I know Crowley!  He’s not going to give us shit unless he gets his own way, and if he wants us?  We gotta go!”

            “Dammit, Dean, don’t be stupid!” Bobby warned.  “Letting him run off with you is bad enough!  If he takes Blake too...?”

            “Crowley’s right!” Dean yelled.  “Even Cass said he’s the only one who can help us now.  We have to play along because we don’t have a choice anymore!  So let the bastard enjoy having his way while it lasts, because you know we’re going to turn it around!”

            “That’s what I always liked the most about you, Squirrel,” Crowley declared.  “That unending confidence!  What say we retire to somewhere warmer?”

            “No way you’re taking me back to Hell!” Blake yelled.  At least his agitation was overriding his fatigue, making him almost seem like himself again.  “If you’re dragging us off somewhere, it’s gonna be neutral territory!”

            Crowley shrugged.  “Fine.”

            Then Dean felt a hand seize his wrist in a vice-like grip.  The world blurred, and suddenly he was elsewhere.  Dean glanced down at Crowley’s hand on his wrist.  He looked over to see Blake blinking in confusion.  Dean pulled free and steadied the cowboy.  Then Dean hauled off and punched Crowley square in the mouth.  “That’s for sending us into that vampire trap,” he explained pleasantly.

            Crowley picked himself up with a surprising amount of dignity for someone who had just been laid out flat on his back.  “I suppose I deserved that somehow,” Crowley announced.

            “That, and a whole lot more!”

            Blake stepped between them.  “Ok, less violence, more explaining.  First off, where the hell are we?”

            “Switzerland,” Crowley announced.  “You said you wanted neutral territory!”

            Blake rolled his eyes.  “Ok, funny guy.  Now out with it!  What the hell is wrong with me, Crowley?”

            “You’re dying,” Crowley explained cheerfully.  “Dean’s boyfriend did you over, mate!  Oh, do settle down, Squirrel!” he called as Dean started forward and Blake firmly held him back.  “Little Cassie didn’t do it to him on purpose.  But the fact remains that Sexy here isn’t long for this world, one way or the other.  I suspect he’d prefer to not pass at all, but given the choice, he’d perhaps wish to do it in the arms of a certain singer with the most lovely hazel eyes?”

            “Crowley?” Blake called.  “Keep up the bullshit.  I’ll fucking hold you while Dean beats the shit out of you!”

            “And you’ll die alone,” Crowley snapped, suddenly devoid of humor.  “You haven’t got a chance without me, Shelton!  And those lovely long legs of yours won’t hold you up for much longer.  You know this!  Getting back to your own universe is the only thing that can save you now.  And that will _never_ happen unless you accept what only I can provide!  So if you want to save yourself, get home, and get Dean’s angel back?  You’d best treat me with a bit of respect!”

            Dean wanted to take his angel blade and shove it through Crowley’s throat.  But he held himself in check.  The threat was all too real.  He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose.  “Alright,” he said.  “You got us, Crowley.  We’re here, and we’re listening.”

            “It’s like this,” Crowley explained, pleasant once more.  “You need two things to make this work – a connection to Blake’s home world, and a power source.”

            “Yeah, and guess what, Crowley?” Blake called.  “You left out the part about Cass being able to get back, but we found a way.  So it looks like Dean’s going to get his angel back after all!”

            Dean watched with great pleasure as most of the humor went out of Crowley’s face.  “I see.  Well!  Isn’t that just so nice?”

            “Bottom line, you got two things you have to offer us right now: a way to help me with whatever the hell’s happening to me, and a power source,” Blake continued.  “So let’s get to it, shall we?  What are you going to take from us to let us use one of your demons?”

            “Let me use the portal,” Crowley said, “and I’ll power your spell myself.”

            That was the last thing Dean expected.  “Y-you’ll do it?”

            “Yes, I’ll do it!  Who better?  Plus I’ll have the added benefit of being right there when the portal opens to ensure I’m able to use it!”

            “That was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” Blake accused.  “You said you’d let me use one of your demons, but you planned on powering the spell yourself the whole time!”

            “Of course it was!” Crowley snapped.  “And this time, we’re not negotiating.  You’re running out of time, cowboy!  The full moon is a week and a half away.  At the rate you’re going, you won’t survive past the first quarter!  And you certainly won’t survive another lunar month!  Either you accept what I have to offer and you do this on the next full moon, or you die here!  And as to your angel...?”

            “What about Cass?” Dean demanded.  “What’s happening to him?  What the hell have you done?”

            “I didn’t do a bloody thing!  I did precisely what your precious angel asked me to do!  It’s not my fault Cassie dropped the ball and sent Sexy here through in his place, now, is it?  What’s happening to Blake is a little side deal that we arranged together.  Castiel knew precisely what he’d agreed to!”

            “He agreed to something that would kill him?!” Blake exclaimed.

            “Of course not!  He’s a fucking angel!” Crowley spat.  “He would have been a bit knackered, and naturally much more vulnerable and less of a pain in my royal arse, but otherwise he’d be fine.  That spell was never supposed to take effect on a weak human like you!”

            “Blake is anything but weak,” Dean defended.  “You can ask that demon that smoked out at Levine’s place to confirm that!”

            Crowley narrowed his eyes at Blake.  “Yeeeesss, it does seem as if I underestimated you,” he mused.

            “I made a living off of people underestimating me,” Blake told him.  He turned to Dean.  “Dean, this is your call, buddy.  I still don’t understand what’s happening to me, and I don’t know enough about magic and supernatural shit to even follow all this bullshit!  But I trust you.  Do we make this deal with him, or not?”

            Dean grimaced.  He paced around, thinking it over, trying to figure out what he’d missed.  “Let me get this straight,” he began.  “You want to help us power this spell to open a portal to Blake’s world.  And in return, you want to be able to use that portal?  What the hell for?”

            “Didn’t he tell you?” Crowley asked, indicating Blake.  “I want to be far, far away from you and that overgrown brother of yours!”

            “How the hell do you know they’re not just as bad or worse in my world?” Blake asked.

            “Grass is greener, luv, and frankly, at this point, I’ve had just about all I can take of the devils I know.  I’ll even keep the terms of my original offer to stay away from you, your husband, and your family!  If Moose and Squirrel are in your world, I fully intend to steer clear of them.”  He paused.  “Of course, there is one small amendment.”

            “Here it comes,” Dean grumbled.

            “You ruined a very beneficial business arrangement that I had with Adam Levine’s people,” Crowley huffed.  “I expect compensation for that!  A few vials of Blake’s blood should just about cover it.”

            Blake cocked his head.  “How big, and how many?”

            Crowley produced a small vial.  “This size will be just fine.  As to how many, hmm...”  He pondered.  “I’d say about a dozen should be sufficient.”

            “A dozen?!!”  Dean sputtered.  “No fucking way!  He’s already weak enough!  You’re not draining him like that!”

            “Fine.”  Crowley waved his hand dismissively.  “I’ll make it half a dozen.

            “For fuck’s sake!”

            “Oh, let him have my blood!” Blake spat.  “I don’t give a shit, Dean!  He wants half a dozen vials of unicorn blood, that’s the least of my troubles.”

            Crowley’s eyebrows shot up.  “Unicorn blood?”

            “Never mind.”  Dean rubbed the back of his neck.  “Let me talk to Blake.”

            Crowley dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

            Dean took Blake’s arm and pulled him away a bit.  Then he pulled Blake’s head down so he could whisper to him.  “Blake, the million and one terrible things that Rowena can do with your blood aside?  I guess that’s kind of your choice.  But this is your world we’re talking about inflicting Crowley with!” he reminded the taller man.  “Whatever the fall-out may be, whatever that asshole does?  It’s going to be on your head, buddy!”

            “Do we have a choice, though?” Blake asked.  “We need your angel back, and I’m in trouble, Dean!  Crowley just agreed with Cass, and now they’re both saying that I won’t make it to the full moon!”

            “That’s the thing.  We got no way to know!”  Dean moved back and turned to Crowley.  “Hey, Crowley, what about Blake?  What’s the point of sending him back if he’s just going to die over there?”

            Crowley rolled his eyes.  “The single biggest cause of what’s happening to him is the fact that he’s in the wrong universe!  When he’s crossed back over, the damage will soon be undone.  Just a little rest and TLC that I’m certain his loving husband will be happy to provide, and the unfortunate side effects of his holiday here will be reversed!”  He smirked.  “Of course, he needs to survive until the full moon, first.  And what he’ll need for that to happen is a whole other deal!”

            Dean went back to Blake.  “Think he’s telling the truth?” Blake wanted to know.

            “We got no way to know for sure, but he probably is,” Dean sighed.  “I gotta tell you, dude, if we make a bad deal with this asshole and it turns out you just have the flu?  I may have to stab us both on principle!”

            “I’ll hand ya the knife.”  Blake rubbed at his face.  “What the hell do we do, buddy?”

            Dean ground his teeth.  “This guy has made deals that have enslaved souls in Hell forever.  I can tell you from personal experience that it’s called ‘Hell’ for a good reason!  But at the same time, he’s King of the Crossroads, not Lucifer.  Personally, I think I’d prefer Luci, but generally the shit Crowley does ends up being the choice of the people he deals with, rather than an all-out apocalypse.  To be truthful, the most ambitious thing he’s ever done, other than try to talk me into going after the First Blade and the Mark of Cain, was when he hooked up with Cass to get the souls in Purgatory.  And that, apparently, came from Cass!”

            “So does this,” Blake pointed out.  “Whatever’s going on here, it’s from your angel, Dean.  And you just said he’s lied to you before.  Now, I trust you enough that I’m willing to accept the consequences of whatever you decide so far as taking this deal to let him use the portal.  If we let this bastard cross over, then Adam and I will bust our asses to find hunters in our world to deal with him, or I’ll flat-out do it myself!  And if you don’t think it’s worth the risk?  Then we’ll try to find another way to set things right with me and Cass.  But you’re the one who knows Cass, Dean.  So you gotta tell me here.  I already know I don’t trust Crowley.  But how much do you trust Cass?”

            How much did he trust Cass?  Dean grimaced and thought it over.  Whatever his angel had done, Dean couldn’t believe he’d intentionally let harm come to his friends.  Especially since his return from Purgatory, Cass had been nothing but loyal.  His angel wouldn’t betray them.  Dean had to believe that.  “I trust him,” Dean told Blake.  “I say we make the deal.”

            Blake gently slapped Dean on the back.  Then they both returned to Crowley.  “You got yourself a deal,” Blake announced.

            “No bullshit, Crowley!” Dean warned.  “I swear, you fuck us over, I will personally toss you into the Cage with Lucifer.  You can spend eternity as his prison bitch!”

            “Charming.  But we finally have a deal!”  Crowley eagerly clapped his hands together.  “On to part two.  I can give our favorite cowboy here a little boost that will support him long enough to cast this spell on the full moon.  And all I ask in return is one little thing.”  Crowley produced the hex bag he’d shown Blake in Hell.  “Just keep it with you at all times, Dean-o!  Then I’ll...”

            “No!”  Blake’s refusal was sharp.  “No deal.  You want something from me, then we’ll talk about it, Crowley.  But there is no fucking way we are making a deal that involves you putting any magical item on Dean!”

            “Dude!” Dean exclaimed.

            But Blake was shaking his head.  “No, Dean!  I’m damned serious about this now.  If he wanted me to carry that thing, then we could have negotiated.  But he wants you.  He’s not getting you!”

            Crowley rolled his eyes.  “You really are most dramatic, aren’t you?”

            “And you really are full of shit!”  Blake stepped closer, glowering down at Crowley, whose eyebrows raised as he looked up at the big man.  “I know why you want him,” Blake growled in a low voice.  “It’s not happening!”

            Once more, the humor fled from Crowley’s features.  “You’ll die without this deal, Blake!  And don’t you think the Squirrel is capable of making his own decisions?”

            “Not this one!”

            “Uh, Blake?” Dean began.  “Can we at least talk about exactly what this hex bag will do to me?  If...”

            Blake whirled on him so suddenly Dean took a startled step back.  “It’s my life,” Blake announced.  “And I refuse to trade it for you!  No, Crowley,” he declared, turning back to the scowling demon.  “We’ll make the deal for the portal, and you can have those vials of my blood.  But Dean is out of the equation!”

            Crowley sneered.  “You’ll be lucky if you last a week!”

            “Yeah, well, I guess that’s just a chance I’ll have to take.”

            Angry dark eyes clashed with determined blue.  Blake’s face was set into a stubborn scowl.  “Crowley?” Dean called.  “You’re not going to get anywhere on this one.  This cowboy is stubborn as a mule!”

            “So I see.  Very well!”  Crowley dropped his hex bag into his pocket and angrily straightened his jacket.  Then his smile returned.  “At least we’ve settled one matter of business!  Now!  Which of you gentlemen is sealing the deal?”

            Oh shit.  Dean had forgotten that part.  Unfortunately, clueless Blake had to pick that moment to open his big country mouth.  “We’re both involved in making this portal happen,” Blake declared.  “So we’re both making the deal.  That means if you screw with one of us, you’re screwing with us both!  And I will plant my boot so far up your ass…!”

            “Yes, yes, of course.”  Crowley waved his hand dismissively.  He grinned widely, looking from one to the other.  “Who’s first?”

            “Uh, Blake?” Dean called weakly.  “He’s gotta…”

            “Ah fuck it, I’ll go first,” Blake declared.  “You got a pen, or are we signing in blood?”

            “Oh, we don’t sign anything, Sexy!”  Crowley was practically giggling, and Dean’s stomach turned.  “There’s only one way to seal a deal of this nature.”

            Blake cocked an eyebrow, and Dean groaned.  “Blake?  We gotta kiss him.”

            “We gotta _WHAT?!”_

            “Just close your eyes and think of Adam,” Dean sighed.  “I’ll close mine and try not to puke.  And Crowley, if you slip me the tongue, I’m going to rip it out and shove it up your ass!”

            “Later for the kinky stuff, darling.  C’mere, big boy!”  Crowley stalked towards Blake, who looked at him with an expression of horror.

            At least it was quick.  Five minutes later, Blake and Dean were standing outside of the bunker, rubbing frantically at their mouths and spitting on the ground.  “Dean?” Blake called.  “Your world can kiss my ass!”

            “Yeah, your world’s looking better and better.”  Dean fought back the bile.  “Let’s get inside.  I really really need a stiff drink.”

            “I say we head to the garage and drink some gasoline.”

            “I may take you up on that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun was imagining the one scene from Ace Ventura when Blake and Dean were spitting on the ground. Thought it was a mistake at first to take the deal, but believes they’ll find a way to fuck Crowley over. They always do. Figured Blake was probably dying because that siphon is designed to drain angels and he’s just a man. Is still wondering if Cass knew it was in there or if it was snuck in. Crowley’s saying he did, but wonders if he really knew? He knew Blake’s soul wasn’t intact, but isn’t sure Cass really knew what that spell really was.


	21. The Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake and Dean have a heart to heart following Crowley's visit

            Sam wouldn’t talk to them when they got back.  Bobby wasn’t even there.  Apparently he’d been so angry that he’d left without even saying goodbye.  Blake got a first-hand demonstration of what Dean called “Sammy’s bitch face” when the younger brother scowled at them both.  He’d informed them that Bobby had left because he’d known the two “idjits” would agree to “whatever harebrained scheme that bastard came up with” and hadn’t wanted to deal with it. Sammy then informed the two that he didn’t want to deal with it either and had stormed off, heading into the bunker and straight into his room, slamming the door behind him.

            Blake and Dean had been left standing in the main room, feeling hard done by.  Blake had clapped Dean sympathetically on the shoulder.  Then he’d retired to his bathroom to brush his teeth several times.  He still felt dirty.  Had he really just kissed a _demon?_   Adam, he vowed, would never, ever learn about this.

            Blake returned to the main room and collapsed into one of the chairs near a stack of books.  He’d been trying to help out a bit with the research.  It wasn’t easy, but Blake reckoned he could do a better job than Dean at any rate.  He knew that wasn’t true tonight, thought.  He was exhausted and slightly tipsy.  The events of the night played themselves out in his head.  Blake got out his guitar, put his feet on the table, tilted his chair back at an angle that was likely an accident waiting to happen and strummed.  He hummed softly to himself, deep in thought.  What he’d done tonight, Blake knew, could have disastrous consequences.  But Blake didn’t regret saying no to Crowley’s offer to help.  After what he’d come to realize tonight, there was no way Blake was letting Crowley put so much as a finger on Dean.  Not if he had anything to say about it.

            Blake continued to play, his fingers moving idly over the frets, and thought about Dean.  The decision he’d made to refuse Crowley’s help could very well prove fatal.  Blake hated the idea that he could potentially die without ever getting a chance to say goodbye to Adam, but he had no regrets.  He wasn’t about to give up, not yet.  But there wasn’t much he could do about that right now.  Dean and Castiel?  Well, maybe there was something he could do about that.

            Dean himself appeared, walking into the room and taking a seat at the table near Blake.  He appeared to be chewing cud.  Then he handed Blake a large, half-full container of pieces of sugarless mint-flavored chewing gum and Blake understood.  He nodded his thanks and dumped the remaining gum into his mouth.  Now Blake also resembled a cow.  But at least he could pretend his mouth hadn’t been where it had been tonight.  Dean reached into a pocket, produced a flask, and took a drink, handing it to Blake.  Blake accepted, enjoying the burn of the whiskey.  He polished off what was left of the flask and handed it back.  Now his head was spinning for more reasons than one.  “Thanks.”

            Dean nodded and replaced the flask in his pocket.  “We’re low on Hunter’s Helper,” he announced.  “I’ll make a supply run tomorrow.”

            Whiskey and mint gum made for an interesting taste combination.  Blake chewed, his eyes on Dean, and started playing again.  Dean listened for a time, not saying anything.  Then he pulled his laptop across the table and opened it.  Blake gently replaced his guitar in its case.  He looked around, found a box of tissues, and disposed of his gum.  Then he reached over and quietly put his hand on Dean’s arm.  “How about we have a talk, you and me?” he suggested, offering his tissue full of gum. 

            Dean cautiously added the wad from his own mouth to the tissue.  He tossed the whole mess neatly into the trash.  Then he eyed Blake.  “You’re awfully pale, Blake.  Crowley didn’t drain much of your blood, but in the state you’re in, it was probably enough!  You sure you’re up to that buddy?”

            “No, but I’d still like to try it,” Blake offered.  “I want to talk to you, finish a conversation that’s well overdue.  But I want you to hear me out before you get pissed off and shut down.  Will you do that?”

            Dean blinked.  “…Sure?”

            Blake crossed his arms over his chest and thought about where to begin.  “Got a look at the moon tonight.  First quarter’s almost here,” he noted.  “Little over a week to go until we cast that spell and everything goes back to normal.”

            Dean didn’t answer right away.  He got up and started pacing, his bowlegged gait quickening in time with his emotions.  “Blake, are we about to have that talk where you tell me I’m repressing my feelings and need to totally fall all over myself for my angel?  Because seriously, dude, I can save you the trouble!  I’m sorry that it means we gotta find another way to link up the worlds, but that’s the way it is, and it’s not going to change!  Ok?”

            Blake chuckled.  “You really are an all or nothing kind of guy, aren’t you, Dean?”

            Dean gave a deep sigh.  “Blake, listen.  What you and your husband have, it’s obviously real strong.  The way he looked at you, man?  I’ve never had anyone look at me like that.  Not Lisa, certainly not Cass!  And that’s great.  I’m happy for you, buddy.  Really!  But you’re kind of acting like just because the two of you have this amazing relationship?  That means everyone else should be doing the same thing!  And that’s not me and Cass!”

            “Well, based solely on that kiss?  I’d say at least half of your equation disagrees, Dean.”

            Dean grimaced.  “No offense, Blake, but if your husband’s much like you are?  Well, Cass is, um...  I don’t want to say he’s gullible, but he can be rather easily influenced., especially on anything to do with human relationships.  I can see your Adam convincing him of something that’s not true fairly easily!”

            Blake pinched his lips together.  “Why is it so hard for you?”

            “So hard for me?” Dean echoed.

            “To believe that anyone could actually, honestly love you?”

            Sudden cold silence from Dean.

            Blake eyed Dean and decided to press his luck.  “You know, that’s something I noticed about you early on,” he began.  “You put on this act for the whole world.  You act like you’re this arrogant asshole, and I gotta tell you, it’s a damned good act.  It probably works well for keeping most people at arm’s length.  Hell, you had me convinced!  At least until I fell apart on y’all and saw you crying, Dean.”

            Dean ducked his head, looking uncomfortable.  “Don’t read too much into that.  I was pretty anemic at the time, after all.”

            “I read only what I saw.  And then Bobby told me some stuff.  And that was when I got it, got you, Dean.  What you said just now, about how you’ve never had what Adam and I have?  It’s more than that!  You’ve been abandoned or betrayed by everyone in your life, up to and including your brother.  And that’s why you do it!  You’re so scared to be abandoned or betrayed again that you can’t let yourself let anyone get too close!”

            Dean gave him a cool look.  “Gee, Blake, I sound like a real sociopath, don’t I?”

            Blake scoffed.  “That ain’t it!  Dean, you’re not a sociopath.  You’re just a guy who’s been through too much shit in his life, more than any one man should ever have to face!” Blake sighed and leaned forward, suddenly feeling weary.  “I get you, Dean.  You’re not really the asshole you try to pretend you are.  You’re just trying to protect yourself.  Now, I didn’t go to Hell and suffer for years like you did, but I’ve been through two divorces.  Closest thing to Hell most people can imagine right there.  And I know how it affected me.  Each time, it made it harder to give my heart away.  By the time Adam came along, well, I’d built the walls around my heart pretty damned thick!”

            Dean gave a small snort.  “Since we’re doing such deep psychoanalysis, let’s analyze you a bit, Blake!  Only seems fair.  For instance, you’re on your third marriage!  Are you really in any sort of position where you can give relationship advice?”

            That stung.  But Blake swallowed it.  “You’re right, it is fair,” he admitted.  “And you’re right.  I stepped up to bat twice before, looking for happily ever after.  And I failed miserably twice!  Maybe this is just strike three?  And God knows things with Adam and I haven’t ever been ideal.  Truth is, I’m worried sick about him.  Don’t know what the hell was going on with him and your angel, Dean, but what Levine told us scares the shit out of me.  God only knows what sort of shit he’s dealing with!”

            Dean scoffed.  “Dude, you didn’t even know monsters existed until Cass crash landed in your world.  So long as Cass doesn’t angel out like he apparently did with Levine too often, he knows how to hide his presence.  And monsters get by because they keep low profiles, Blake.  The very fact that your husband’s famous and constantly in the public eye should be enough to keep him safe.  Even if your Adam wasn’t a rock star with his own army of bodyguards and adoring fans, he’s got Cass with him!  Trust me, my angel can handle the occasional stalker fan, ok?”

            “Wish that was all we had to worry about,” Blake sighed.  “Adam is…  Look.  I was never political.  Adam never really was either, not to any significant degree.  But after we started publically dating and he saw how many of my so-called friends turned their backs on me?  Well, he started to get a bit more involved.  Adam’s got this fire in him, Dean.  He’s so full of life and passion that it practically flows out his pores.  I love that about him!  But he’s also a bit of a hot head.  He’s kind of like you a bit there.  Once he gets passionate about something, he goes all in.  And he started speaking out for gay rights, calling out bigots and homophobes…”  He shook his head.  “I tried to tell him that he was making himself a target.  And he was!  He’s Jewish and openly bi.  Now he was using his star power to give a voice to the LBGT community.  So he started getting threats. People picketed the record company when his last album came out.  And of course he was doing it all alone because I was still trying to get my head around my own situation.  Even when I got engaged to him, I wasn’t really into the political stuff.  I mostly just publically supported him.  But he always was a little loudmouth.  Pissed off more and more people until I finally had to arrange for private security after someone threw a molotov at his car after a concert.”

            “Dude, holy shit!”  Dean looked shocked.  “Ok, I get why you’re worried.  But Cass can handle that!  My angel can keep him safer than any bodyguard.”

            “Probably, and I gotta say, that makes me damned happy, Dean.  The idea that Adam’s literally got an angel on his shoulder?  That does a hell of a lot to ease my mind!”  He suddenly became serious.  “But my point stands.  You don’t have to fight monsters or go to Hell to understand pain.  I put Adam through enough.”  Blake paused for a moment, lost in memory. 

            “You don’t have to talk about this, Blake,” Dean offered.  “Not if it hurts you.”

            “No, we’re having this conversation, Dean.  I’m working my way up to an illustrated point with this.  And I need to get through it.  Will you listen?”

            Dean went quiet and simply nodded.

            “After the show, when Adam disappeared for a while?  I started to understand how much he meant to me.  So I finally went over to see him, see what we could salvage.  He was…”  Blake swallowed.  “I hurt him worse than I’d ever hurt anyone.  And when I saw him, I realized that.  He didn’t deserve it.  He was the last one on Earth who deserved how much I’d hurt him.  I’d torn the heart out of him, and dammit, Dean, I think it almost killed him!  He was so pale and weak, and very obviously stoned out of his damned mind.  I was afraid to leave him alone.  So I took him home with me, even though he fought.  Then I pretty much sat on him until he dried up.  Then I swallowed my pride and asked to be friends again.  And he refused.”

            “Huh?”  Dean blinked, obviously not expecting that.

            Blake nodded.  “I told you he’s passionate.  He knew he couldn’t live the lie anymore.  He’d taken this chance and put himself out on the line, and I’d kicked him to the curb.  I just wanted my best friend back, but I knew he wanted more.  I could see how bad off he was.  And I guess that was my excuse, the reason I gave myself for saying we’d try it.  We’d be friends, but I’d give him a bit more, let him try to show me what we could be together if I let him.  I figured, best of both worlds, right?  I told myself that I could put up with a little romancing to get my friend back.  Hell, what could it hurt, to just consider the idea?”

            “I see what you did there,” Dean called.  “Cass just put himself on that same line Adam did, when he had Levine kiss me like that.  Now you’re asking me to consider taking him up on the offer like you did.  But I’m not you, and Cass isn’t Adam.  It’s different for us!”

            “How?”

            Blake heard Dean grind his teeth.  “Because it is, Blake!  For starters, kudos on going against the grain as a country singer to even consider a relationship with another man.  But you’re asking me to go after an angel, Blake!  He’s not even a man, that’s just a man’s body he’s in!”

            “So if he was in a woman’s body, it would be different?” Blake pounced.  “He’s the same angel!”

            “I don’t know!” Dean yelled.  “I doubt it.  Cass has been in that vessel for a long time, so it’s hard to picture him as a woman.  And ok, I may have slept with a female angel once, but she didn’t count!”

            “How the hell could she not count?!”

            “Because she wasn’t an angel at the time and she’d been born into that body, ok?  Cass’s body belongs to Jimmy Novak.  And even though the guy died along the way and it’s all my angel in there now?”  Dean shot him a look.  “Come on, Blake!  He’s an angel, and my best friend!  I can’t even think about him that way!”

            “Funny,” Blake noted.  “I said the same thing, about Adam being my best friend.  But in the end, I honestly believe that Adam and I were just meant to be.  Something connected us from the moment we laid eyes on each other.  We’re soulmates, Dean.  Even before either of us knew it, we already had a pretty profound bond.”

            Dean quickly drew his breath.  Blake glanced down.  “You ok?”

            “Yeah, it’s just that when Cass talked about the two of us?  That’s what he said, that we have a profound bond.”  He shrugged.  “It’s nothing.  Still not the same thing.”

            “Why not?” Blake challenged again.  “We look for the same qualities in a friend as we do in a romantic partner.  Looks, physical attractiveness, even romantic love?  Those things don’t make a relationship that lasts.  It takes more, a deeper connection that lasts even when the romance dies down!  I got two failed marriages to prove it!”

            “And now you’re a newlywed,” Dean pointed out.  “Your fantastic joining of soulmates is in its infancy!  What makes you think it will work any better than the last two?”

            “Because I never loved anyone in all my life the way I love Adam,” Blake said without hesitation.  “He’s like half of what makes me me, like I’m less than whole when I’m away from him!  Cass is right, my soul isn’t intact.  Because part of it belongs to Adam!  And I think you, more than anyone, know what that’s like.  Because you haven’t been complete since you lost Cass!”

            Dean was rapidly losing his temper.  “For fuck’s sake!  I’m a hunter and he’s an angel, ok, Blake?  We’re both warriors!  There is no such thing as soulmates with the two of us, ok?  Stop reading into our friendship, because you’re seeing something that just is not there!”

            Blake sighed and tried to argue.  But suddenly the world started spinning.  He stumbled and would have fallen if Dean hadn’t grabbed him.  “Blake!  You ok, man?”

            Blake was not ok.  His body was weak and shaking.  For a moment, everything went black.  He could hear Dean frantically yelling for Sam, seeming to be coming from a great distance.  And then everything went silent in the darkness.

****

            Dean was on the verge of panic before Blake finally came back around.  The glassy blue eyes were a welcome sight as they focused on him and Sammy.  Dean, who had been mopping at Blake’s face with a cool cloth, breathed a sigh of relief.  “Oh, thank God!  Blake, you scared the shit out of me!”

            “Blake?” Sam called.  “You with us?”

            “Yeah,” Blake grunted.  “What happened?”

            “You collapsed,” Dean explained.  “I’m glad we were here in the bunker and I didn’t have to carry you far to get you into your bed.  You are a seriously big guy!”

            “Yeah, well, I blame you,” Blake grumbled.  “I never ate so much red meat and pie as I have being here!”  He struggled to sit up.

            “You’re just lucky I’m tough enough to do it,” Dean retorted.  He gently helped Blake up.  “Sammy, go heat up some soup, would you?  Give the man some electrolytes!”

            Sammy scurried off.  Dean slid onto the bed and put his arm around Blake’s waist to steady him.  “Just take it easy.  You were only out a couple minutes, but you were way out.  I was afraid you weren’t breathing!”  He paused, looking at his friend in concern.  “How do you feel?”

            Blake rubbed at his face and seemed to consider.  “Whipped,” he said.  “Feels like I’ve been knocked down by a truck and plowed under.  But that’s not so new.  I guess drinking was a bad idea.  I was so into our discussion I missed the warning signs, I suppose.  And that’s gonna keep happening, isn’t it?  Whatever’s wrong with me, it’ll keep getting worse.”  Blake rubbed his hands over his face.  “Dammit, I gotta get home!”

            Dean knew what that required.  He looked away.  His stomach, which had been churning while he’d argued with Blake, was churning again.  “Blake, I can’t pretend to feel something I don’t!”

            “And you really can’t feel it, can you?  For the same reason I couldn’t feel myself getting faint.  Because you’re too busy fighting!”  Blake ran his fingers through his greying locks.  Then he looked at Dean.  “Do me a favor?”

            “What?” Dean asked warily.

            Blake pointed.  “Get my guitar?  It’s still out in the study.”

            Dean, surprised, got up and retrieved the instrument.  He brought it in to Blake, who accepted it with a nod of thanks.  “Song time?”

            “I don’t know shit about magic spells, but music has magic in its own right,” Blake explained, focusing on the guitar.  “When I finally realized I was in love with Adam, I met him out in that park we’re going to for this spell.  I brought along my guitar and sang him a song I’d written for him.  It was the only way at the time for me to let him know, because dammit, I just didn’t have the words.  I couldn’t say what was in my heart, so all I could do was sing it.”  The blue eyes fixed on Dean, solemn.  “You were right, you know.  What you said about me and my music?  When you can’t talk, sometimes music says what’s in your heart for you.”

            Dean eyed him.  “You gonna sing me the song you sang your husband?”

            Blake shook his head.  “No.  I don’t think you’re ready to hear that one yet.”

            “Ok.”  Dean was mystified.  “Then what are you doing?”

            “You know how ‘Ol’ Red’ is my signature song?” Blake called.  “Well, I think I know yours too, Dean.  And I think you should hear it now.”

            “A-alright.”  Dean shifted uncomfortably.  “If that’s what you want to do, go ahead.”

            Blake set himself up to play, his eyes once more going to Dean.  “Take a good look at me, Dean.  Now, I’m a country singer.  You know I ain’t a hunter or a warrior.  Do you think I’m weak?”

            Dean blinked.  “Hell no!  Dude, you took on vampires to save us, and you sure as hell weren’t weak when we fought those poltergiests or the demons around Levine!”

            “But we both broke down on the same night, when you had me sing for Bobby after he gave me this guitar,” Blake pointed out.  “And that embarrasses you!  You never said one word of recrimination against me, but you’re embarrassed as hell because, for once, you lost control of your emotions.  So riddle me this, Batman!  If we both broke down on the same night, and for pretty much the same reason?  How is it that only one of us can be considered weak for it?”

            “Because…”  Dean was at a loss for words.  His stomach was actually hurting now.  “Blake, I really don’t want to talk about this anymore, ok?”

            “Alright.”  Blake began to play the guitar.  “I’ll tell you something, and then I’ll sing for you.  And then we won’t talk about this again until you’re ready.”

            “Sounds good.”  Dean could put up with it for a little longer in exchange for a reprieve.

            Blake continued to play.  “When I first agreed to give Adam a chance, I had to beat down a lifetime of what I’d learned, what I’d been taught to believe.  And I was able to do that, because I’d come to understand that Adam was worth it.  That took time.  Time is, unfortunately, something I don’t seem to have a lot of.”

            “I’m sorry,” Dean said humbly.

            Blake shook his head.  “In my case, what broke through to me was the fact that I finally saw how much I’d hurt him, how much he was suffering.  And I realized that, if he was suffering that badly, it meant he must really care deeply about me.  Until then, I never considered that a man could feel anything real for another man.  But that pain?  The suffering I saw every time I looked into those sweet hazel eyes of his?  That was real.”

            “I don’t really have that problem, dude,” Dean explained gently.

            “I know.  Your problem’s a bit different, but at the same time it isn’t.  You can’t let yourself register what you’re feeling because you’re always fighting, Dean.  You’ve been raised as a warrior.  And you’ve been so busy being a warrior that you never got to be a kid, or a young man.  Now you’re so fixated on this idea of being this strong, tough warrior and protecting your brother and everyone else that you even fight yourself!  You finally show some emotions and then you get embarrassed about it, even when someone else just broke down for the exact same reason right next to you!  Where’s the sense in that?”  He sighed.  “I’m gonna do a song for you.  And I want you to listen to the words.  Really listen, ok?”

            “Ok?” Dean agreed cautiously.

            Blake gently began to sing.  _“Lately, I’ve been winning battles left and right, but even winners can get wounded in the fight.  People say that I’m amazing, I’m strong beyond my years.  But they don’t see inside of me, I’m hiding all my tears.  They don’t know that I go running home when I fall down.  They don’t know who picks me up when no one is around.  I drop my sword and cry for just a while, ‘cause deep inside this armor, the warrior is a child.”_

            Dean felt a bit stung.  Was Blake calling him a child?  But his stomach was churning worse than ever as Blake continued with his song.

            _“Unafraid because this armor is the best.  But even soldiers need a quiet place to rest.  People say that I’m amazing, I never face defeat.  But they don’t see the enemies that lay me at his feet.  They don’t know that I go running home when I fall down.  They don’t know who picks me up when no one is around.  I drop my sword and look up for a smile.  ‘Cause deep inside this armor, the warrior is a child.”_

            Blake stopped singing.  His blue eyes were on the door.  Dean looked and saw Sammy, standing there with a bowl of soup.  Dean gave his brother a cocky grin.  “Blake here thinks that song he just did should be my signature song,” he announced.

            “He’s right,” Sammy said, surprising Dean.  “That song could have been written for you, Dean!”

            Dean stiffened.  “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Sammy?!”

            “It means you have to pretty much fall completely apart before you even let the slightest crack show in your armor, Dean,” Sammy retorted, handing the bowl and spoon to Blake.  “I’ve never seen anyone so afraid of his own emotions!  You’re so busy trying to save everyone around you that you just refuse to let yourself feel!”

            That did it.  Dean got to his feet.  “You know what?  I’m done.  Blake, glad you’re feeling better.  Now please keep your half of the bargain and don’t talk to me about this anymore!”

            “I won’t say another word about it,” Blake assured.  “Not until you talk to me.”

            Dean stormed off, slammed the door to his room, and put his headphones on.  But even as he listened to Zeppelin, Blake’s song was echoing through his head.  He couldn’t deny how much the words had rung true.  It was much like that other time he’d listened to Blake sing and had been affected by it.  Blake had said music had a kind of magic of its own.  Maybe Blake was a magician after all?

            Or maybe…

            No.  That wasn’t possible.  Whatever New Age psychobabble bullshit Blake and Sammy might spit at him, Dean knew they were both full of shit.

            _When you can’t talk, sometimes music says what’s in your heart for you._

            _You can’t let yourself register what you’re feeling because you’re always fighting, Dean!_

            Whatever.  Blake barely knew him.

            But Sammy did.  Sammy knew him like no one else ever could.  And Sammy agreed with Blake.

            Dropping his sword and crying for just a while?  That was stupid.  And useless.  It was a waste of time.

_It means you have to pretty much fall completely apart before you even let the slightest crack show in your armor, Dean!  I’ve never seen anyone so afraid of his own emotions!  You’re so busy trying to save everyone around you that you just refuse to let yourself feel!_

            Why did he fight the way he did?  And why the hell was his stomach hurting?  Why did it hurt like this every time he thought about his angel?

            His angel.  _His_ angel?  Well, Cass always said they had a special bond.  But with a start, Dean finally realized that he’d been thinking of Castiel as “my angel” since the day he’d stood helplessly by and watched as the best friend he’d ever had grappled with a spirit of fire, shoved it through the portal back to its own dimension, and then hadn’t come back.  The last time he’d seen Cass, his skin had been turning red, blistering in the flames as he’d grappled with the efreet.  But his blue eyes hadn’t shown a trace of fear.  The only thing Dean could see in those eyes in that final moment when he’d looked back had been a grim determination.

            That final moment when he’d looked back.  He’d looked back.  Cass had looked back, right at Dean, just before he’d charged at the efreet and drove it into the portal.

            _We’re soulmates, Dean.  Even before either of us knew it, we had a profound bond._

            Blake had said that tonight, but Cass had said it before.  When Blake had said the words tonight, it was as if Cass was speaking to him.  How did he do that?  It was like the big cowboy could see right through him!

            Dean turned up the music until it drowned out the thoughts in his head.  But even then, his stomach churned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun thinks Dean is finally coming to grips with his feelings, or at least he’s definitely feeling. Is starting to worry about how sick Blake is getting. Hopes they have enough time to save him.
> 
> The song Blake sings here is one I've sung pretty much all my life. Until I looked it up tonight, I'd never actually known who wrote it or heard the original version. It's by Twila Paris, and here's a version with lyrics. If I got some wrong, I don't care. The ones I wrote here are the ones I know from memory. As Blake and Sammy indicate, this is the main theme for Dean in this piece.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kluRNKKST00


	22. Half Moons and Full Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is running out for Blake, and Dean has no idea how to help him. Sammy makes a tough choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song here is "Underneath The Same Moon" by our Blake! A huge THANK YOU to Country Music Freak (who is currently seeing the man himself in concert, lucky girl!) for pointing this gem out for me!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sbmAuILBBWs

            Blake didn’t recover.  If anything, as the days passed he only got worse.  The big cowboy was a shadow of his former self.  He spent most of his time sleeping, and when he was awake, he seemed dazed and lethargic.  And he was frequently confused.  He often wandered about the bunker, not knowing where he was.  Once Dean had to run out and grab him when Blake walked right out the door, looking for his truck.  Sometimes Blake called out for Adam or other people he knew.  It was easy enough to remind him and get his mind back on track.  But the frequency it was happening was alarming, and getting worse.  He’d lost weight.  Blake ate when food was presented to him, but required a great deal of cueing and encouragement to get him to keep eating.  Without it, he’d eat a few bites and then lose interest.  And while he smiled as often as he ever did, and joined in with whatever conversation was going on when he was awake and coherent, it felt as if his interactions were forced.  Dean suspected Blake was trying to put on a brave front, to not show how bad he felt.  Dean understood that.  If he was in Blake’s position, he’d do the same thing.  But it didn’t make much sense for Dean.  Granted, Dean’s sum total of knowledge about how people were without their souls was limited to Sammy, and Sammy had just been an emotionless douchebag incapable of empathy.  In Blake’s case, it was more like he had rapidly-progressing dementia.  “It feels like I’m losing bits and pieces of my mind,” Blake had confessed to Dean the day Dean had returned him to the bunker after the truck incident.  “One moment I’m just tired, and then the next I got no idea where I am or what’s going on!”

            Dean had no idea what to do.  He took care of Blake to the best of his ability.  Dean was spending nearly all of his time with Blake now.  Blake’s appetite was clearly gone, so Dean made him multiple small meals.  Then he hovered and chattered and kept encouraging Blake to eat until he’d gotten most of it into the big cowboy.  Every time the blue eyes started blinking, Dean pushed him back into his bed or onto a couch, where Dean would encourage Blake to rest.  And of course, he, Sammy, and Bobby were all frantically looking for a way to stop what was happening.  Bobby was out chasing after some long shot by talking to a witch he knew, while Sammy and Dean were constantly in the library or on their computers.

            The biggest problem, of course, was that they had no real idea of exactly what was happening to Blake.  The coin from the hex bag seemed like the obvious culprit, but even though Dean kept it away from Blake, Blake didn’t get any better.  Dean even resorted to trying to transfer whatever spell might be on the coin to himself, hoping it would halt the process on Blake and buy them all more time.  But nothing seemed to work.  Dean was seriously concerned.  Each morning when he woke, the first thing he did was check on Blake, make sure the big man was still breathing.  Dean dreaded the day he might open his eyes and find Blake lifeless.  But it seemed like he was powerless to prevent that day from coming.

            The worst part was that Blake knew it, too.  “It’s not your fault, Dean,” he’d said out of the blue while Dean was chatting with him.

            Dean had looked up, confused.  “What’s not my fault, buddy?”

            “I’m dying,” Blake said simply.  “And it’s not your fault.  We both know I’m not gonna make it to the full moon, and I’m the one who made the choice on that.  It’s alright.  Just try to get your angel back, and find a way to let Adam know I love him.”

            The matter-of-fact way Blake said it, combined with the dullness in his eyes, had made Dean feel cold.  “Don’t say that!” Dean exclaimed.  “We’re not giving up on you, alright?”

            Blake had only smiled.  “I know.  But if the worst happens, don’t you dare go thinking it’s your fault!”

            Dean hadn’t known what to say.

            Then there was the last conversation they’d had before Blake had collapsed again.  True to his word, Blake hadn’t said anything more about Dean repressing his feelings for Cass.  But Dean had quickly discovered that Blake didn’t need to say a word.  Just his presence was a constant reminder.  Seeing the sag of the big cowboy’s shoulders and the way the once-strong man would collapse onto the nearest chair felt like an accusation.  And every time Dean closed his eyes, all he dreamed about was Cass.  That last part wasn’t new, though.  His angel had been haunting his dreams since the day Cass had fearlessly charged the efreet and knocked it into the portal.  But that wasn’t true, either.  Cass, Dean realized, had haunted his dreams for _years._   And even that was a lie, because it wasn’t just his dreams.  Cass occupied Dean’s thoughts when he was awake, too.  When his angel was near, Dean felt complete.  But without him?  The truth was, every time his angel had been taken from him, Dean felt as if he’d been somehow hollowed out.  And that meshed perfectly with the way Blake talked about Adam. 

            Lately, Dean’s dreams had been extra intense.  In them, Cass was in a bright place.  Dean couldn’t see Cass, couldn’t see anything but blinding white light.  But Dean could hear him.  He seemed to be talking to someone, but Dean never heard any other voice but Cass’s.  Sometimes, Cass was asking about Dean, odd questions about what Dean liked.  Usually, though, his angel was asking to be released.  It seemed, in his dreams, that Cass was somehow being held prisoner.  But whoever was holding Cass refused to let him go.  And no matter which version of the dream or what was being said, several things remained constant.  It was always Cass’s voice.  The bright light blotted out all other vision.  And Dean could feel Cass’s emotions as strongly as if they were his own.

            Dean would start awake from the dream, sitting bolt upright in his bed, covered with cold sweat.  At first, he’d tried to dismiss it.  Cass was, after all, a prisoner, trapped in Blake’s universe.  But even though it was maddeningly vague, Dean could clearly sense the angel’s emotions, his anxiety and desperation.  Once, when he’d awakened tangled in his sheets, that feeling of being trapped was so strong that Dean had barely managed to keep himself from panicking.

            Finally, after the third night of the same dream, he’d gotten up and gone into the library to do some research on soulmates.

            What he’d found was simultaneously encouraging and discouraging, and Dean brooded all day long, trying to process it as he went about his day.  Soulmates as Blake had described them did exist, and theirs was a powerful bond.  If both halves of the bond reached out for the other, it seemed nothing could separate them.  Soulmates were known to be able to sense each other over great distances.  It was impossible to know when two souls would form this powerful link.  But once it happened, nothing short of death could break it.  No spell, ward, or other barrier had been proven effective at separating them, especially if one or both halves of the pair was in real emotional distress.  Well, Dean was certainly in emotional distress.  The helplessness he felt as he watched Blake grow weaker every day, combined with the continued failure to help him or find a way to link to Cass, were taking its toll.  And more and more, he found himself reaching out, instinctively straining towards Cass.

            Unfortunately, ever since his last talk with Blake, it was as if Dean’s eyes had been opened.  That was largely Sammy’s fault.  Blake talked like he could see right through Dean, but what the hell did he know?  He’d only known Dean for three weeks!  But Sammy?  Dean couldn’t dismiss Sammy the same way.  If Sammy was seeing something too, the same thing Blake was apparently seeing?  That changed things.  That meant that there was a chance Blake might just possibly be right.  And that scared the shit out of Dean.  Why?  Dean didn’t know.  But now he knew the signs were there.  He’d finally started seeing them himself.  The way he would instinctively reach out for Cass with his mind every morning, even though there was no way his angel could hear him or respond.  The way he’d find something interesting and want to show it to Cass.  The conversations he wanted to have.  The million and one ways that Cass had become part of Dean’s life, now a million and one holes that made Dean feel like his very existence had been left in tatters.

            But Blake couldn’t be right.  What Dean felt for his angel was…  Ok, sure, he loved Cass.  But not in _that_ way.  Dean wasn’t gay.  He wasn’t!

            But maybe there was an easier, simpler explanation.  Cass was an angel, after all.  Was he in distress somewhere?  Was he really a prisoner of something other than Blake’s universe, and reaching for help with all the power at his disposal?  Was that why Dean had been having these disturbing dreams the last three nights?

            Fuck this.  Dean glanced at the clock and did a double-take at how late it was.  He’d lost track of the time.  How long ago had he checked on Blake?  Well, time to remedy that.

            Dean went looking for Blake and finally found him.  Blake was leaning against the wall as he slowly walked towards the door.  “Where you going, buddy?” Dean asked, falling into step with Blake and slipping an arm around his waist.

            “Outside,” Blake replied.  “Want to look up at the moon.”

            That was easy enough.  A moment later, Dean got them both into coats and had Blake sitting against the wall just outside the bunker, looking up at the partial moon.  Dean stood near him, leaning against the wall of the bunker and looking up.

            At first, Blake simply looked at the moon.  But then he started to softly sing.  _“Shadows of the night moving on the ground.  Like silent clouds, they follow me around as I wander through the dark, through the midnight mist remembering our last kiss.  Do you know how much you're missed?  Tonight I stand in this lonely place.  I search the heavens for some saving grace, and I cry!  Dying without you.  I know you're somewhere looking up there too.  Right now that's all two distant hearts can do.  At least we're underneath, underneath the same moon.”_

            Ouch.  As usual, Blake was singing a song that spoke directly to how he was feeling.  Dean reached down and gently squeezed Blake’s shoulder.  “We’ll get you back to him, Blake,” Dean assured him when the exhausted blue eyes looked up at him.  “And maybe you’re right.  Maybe he is looking up at this same moon?”

            “He is,” Blake told him.  “And I’ll tell you something else, buddy.  Adam knows.  He knows that I’m dying.  He feels it.  And I don’t know how to keep that from him!”  Blake looked away, troubled.  “Wish I could, that I could spare him that, you know?  But at the same time...  I’m glad I’m not alone.”

            “You’re not alone, Blake!” Dean said quickly.  “I’m right here.”

            Blake smiled up at him.  “I know.  And that means a lot, Dean.  That you’re here.”

            Blake was obviously confused again.  Still, Dean didn’t have the heart to tell him that Adam wasn’t really there, that his husband couldn’t possibly know what was happening.  Let the big cowboy take his comfort where he could.

            Dean looked back up at the sky.  “First quarter moon tonight.  That means one week left,” he noted.  “But you know that, don’t you, buddy?  That’s why you’re here.  You’re thinking that the time’s almost up.”

            But Blake was shaking his head.  “I’m thinking that my time’s over,” he corrected.  “And it is.  I wanted to come out here and see the moon because I don’t think I’ll see it again.”

            That got Dean’s attention.  “What are you saying now?”

            “I’m saying that I’m not gonna last to tomorrow night.”  Blake’s eyes were fixed on the partial moon.  “This is it.  By this time tomorrow, I’ll be gone.”

            Dean frowned.  He looked over at Blake, looking for the confusion.  But although Blake’s eyes were dull and weary in the moonlight, they were startlingly clear.  Dean straightened.  “Don’t talk like that, Blake!  You’re strong, one of the strongest guys I’ve ever met!  You’ll be fine!”

            “I’m not so strong anymore,” Blake sighed.  “And I’m scared, Dean.  I’m not gonna lie.  Not of dying, though, not really.  I don’t want to die, but I made my choice and I’ll take what comes.  But Dean, I’m in a different universe!  If Cass can be stuck in the wrong universe, then it stands to reason that we’re talking about a whole different Heaven as well as Earth.  So when I die tonight, where am I gonna go?”  He swallowed hard.  “It’s not dying I’m afraid of.  It’s the idea that, if I end up in this Heaven?  I won’t see Adam again.  And that scares me more than you can imagine!”

            That hit Dean hard.  This was the man who had charged four demons.  Who’d gone into a house full of vampires to save two near-strangers who’d kidnapped him.  He’d saved Dean and Sam that day, and then he’d saved Dean again when they’d faced the poltergeists in Nashville.  Every time, Blake had faced something he’d had no comprehension of, things that had terrified men far more worldly and battle-hardened than he was.  And every time, the big man had stood his ground and fought.  Blake was one of the strongest, bravest men Dean had ever met.  And now he was admitting he was scared?  Dean stepped closer, put a hand on Blake’s shoulder.  “Don’t give up!”

            “I’m not,” Blake replied.  “I don’t want to die, Dean.  I’m fighting to stay!  But I don’t know how much longer I can keep fighting.”

            Dean didn’t know what to say to that.  “You fight as long as you can,” he advised.  “And I’ll find a way to help you, or Sammy or Bobby will.  Don’t underestimate us!”

            Blake chuckled.  “I’ve already learned the wisdom of doing that.  Sorry for dumping this on you.”

            “Dump away,” Dean encouraged.  “God knows you’ve got the right.  You didn’t ask for any of this shit.”

            “And you didn’t ask to lose your angel and be saddled with my sorry ass!”

            Dean chuckled.  He leaned against the bunker and crossed one foot over the other, looking up at the moon.  “Honestly, it’s not so bad.  For what it’s worth, Blake?  I’m glad to have known you.”

            “Same here, buddy,” Blake replied.  “Sorry it had to be like this, but I’m damned glad I got to know you, too.”

            They were interrupted when Sammy opened the door and stuck his head out.  He stared at them for a moment.  “You’re here!”

            Dean smiled at his brother.  “Yeah, we’re just doing a little moon gazing.  Welcome to join us?”

            “Yes, I’d love to!  I mean…”  Sammy’s green eyes moved to Blake, lingered for a moment, and then returned to Dean.  “Dean, do you still have that hex bag that brought Blake here?”

            Dean blinked.  “Yeah, what’s left of it is right here in my coat pocket.  Why?”

            “May I see it?”

            Dean pulled the bag out and handed it to his brother.  Sammy took it and immediately disappeared back into the bunker.  “Ok, he’s up to something,” Dean announced.  “Must have found something in his research.  That’s my boy!”  He chuckled.  “See, what did I tell you, Blake?  Never give up until the fight’s finished!”

            Blake didn’t answer.  He’d rested the back of his head against the wall of the bunker and his eyes were closed.

            Dean chuckled.  “Not the best place to fall asleep, buddy,” he called.  “Propped up against a wall outside?  Come on, let’s get you back inside and into a warm bed.”

            No response from Blake.

            “Blake?”  Dean knelt down, shook Blake’s shoulder.  “Blake, come on, buddy, wake up!  Lemme see those baby blues!”

            No answer.  Blake’s head bobbed when Dean shook him, fell forward until his chin rested on his chest.

            Dean reached out a hand and fondly brushed back the curly strands of hair.  “You’re gonna make me carry your oversized ass inside, aren’t you?  Prick.”  He shook his head.  “That’s ok.  I’ll get Sammy to help me.  Just...  Blake?”  He gently tapped Blake’s cheek.  “You’re kind of scaring me a bit, buddy.  I know you’ve been sleeping a lot, but it’s usually not this hard to wake you up!  I, um, I really need you to open your eyes, ok?”  When Blake still didn’t respond, Dean dropped to his knees and tapped Blake’s cheeks a bit harder.  Then he panicked, grabbing Blake’s shoulders and shaking him roughly.  “Blake!  Wake up, Blake!  Don’t you do this!  Don’t you leave me, you son of a bitch!  Come on!”

            “Worried, darling?”

            Dean was up in an instant, angel blade in hand.  “Crowley!” he spat.  “What the fuck do you want now?!”

            “And hello to you too, Squirrel!  But I’m afraid I’m not here for you.”  Still maintaining a safe distance, Crowley crouched down and looked hard at Blake, his eyes changing to demon red.  The cowboy’s eyes were still closed, his chin on his chest and his body lying limp against the wall.  “So sorry, Sexy,” Cowley told the unconscious man.  “But you’re not going to wake up again, I’m afraid.  Not on your own.  You’re dying, right before our eyes!  And you’re absolutely correct, you know.  You won’t survive this night.  You’ll be lucky to survive the next hour!  And more importantly for me, you won’t live long enough to open our portal, a situation I find decidedly inconvenient.”  His eyes returned to normal as he looked up at Dean and smiled.  “Shall we talk?”

            Dean tightened his grip on his blade.  “Crowley, stay the fuck away from him!”

            Crowley shook his head and chuckled.  “Dean?  If he dies before he can open the portal, then no one gets what they want.  Now, your friendly neighborhood King of Hell recently made a deal regarding the use of that portal.  That’s a fairly strong indication that said king wants you to succeed, right?  That means I’ve got no reason to lie to you!”  Crowley smirked up at Dean.  “Come on, now, Dean!  You know Sexy wants to go home!  So how about we put that little pig sticker away, and talk about fulfilling the last wishes of a dying man?”

            Every fiber in Dean’s body wanted to protest.  But then he looked again at Blake, took in the sight of him unconscious and helpless, leaning against the wall.  He recalled what Blake had said, about how he wouldn’t survive the night.  Now Crowley had just confirmed that when he’d said Blake wouldn’t wake up.  And he remembered how Blake had looked when he’d admitted that he was afraid.

            Swallowing hard, Dean resheathed his blade.  With a distrustful glare at Crowley, he opened the door and stuck his head in.  “Sammy!  Get out here!”

            Crowley rolled his eyes.  “Bringing the Moose?”  He shrugged.  “Let him come along if he wants to play.  If nothing else, he can witness our deal.  Because you will deal with me, Dean.  You no longer have a choice!”

            “Blake already told you no,” Dean pointed out.

            “Blake’s not saying anything now,” Crowley countered.  “And he never will again!  Unless.  You.  Deal!”

            “We’ll see about that!”  _Sammy found something,_ he thought desperately.  _He asked for that bag for a reason.  There’s got to be a way to save Blake!_

            Crowley snorted in derision.  Then he paused, eyebrows raising as Sammy returned with the contents of the hex bag.  “Hello, what’s this then?  Doing a bit of experimenting, are we?”

            Sammy frowned, looking at Dean.  “What’s going on?”

            “What’s going on is that Crowley is here to fuck us again,” Dean growled. 

            Sammy turned frosty green eyes towards Crowley.  “Are you going to help Blake?”

            Crowley shrugged.  “I imagine that’s up to Dean here.  I can help him, so long as he’s willing to pay my price?”

            “Do it!” Sammy ordered.  “Whatever you need to do to help him, just do it, Crowley!”

            Nothing Sammy could have said might have surprised Dean more.  Sammy had never trusted Crowley.  He’d supported Blake’s decision to turn down Crowley’s offer unheard, declaring it the only intelligent thing either of them had done.  Now he was going in completely the opposite direction?  Dean stared at his brother in shock.  “Dude, what the hell?  You don’t even know what he wants!”

            “Fine!” Sammy snapped, absently shoving the bag into his pocket.  “What do you want, Crowley?”

            “Just brought you a little replacement for what you’ve lost.”  Crowley produced a hex bag.  He bounced it a bit in his palm, and his eyes went to Dean.  “I want Dean here to carry it, so I can keep tabs on him.  In exchange, I can give Blake a bit of a boost.  It won’t reverse what’s happening to him, or slow it down, but he’ll certainly feel much better!  It should buy him the necessary time.”  He hesitated, looking once more at Sammy.  “Especially since you appear to have figured something out, didn’t you, Sam?”

            Crowley locked eyes with Sammy.  Sammy straightened, glaring right back.  Dean eyed his brother, scowling.  “Someone tell me what’s going on!” he demanded.

            “Just carry the hex bag, Dean!” Crowley ordered.

            “Fuck you!” Dean snapped.

            “He’ll do it,” Sammy announced at the same time.

            Dean sputtered, staring wide-eyed at him.  But Sammy was having none of it.  His younger brother grabbed Dean’s arms and gave him a harsh shake.  “Do it, Dean!” he ordered, a hint of steel in his voice.  “If you don’t, if Crowley doesn’t help us, then Blake _will_ die!  Unless you have another angel up your sleeve or something equally powerful that I don’t know about?  Crowley is the only chance he’s got!”  Sam’s green eyes bore into him.  “I’m sorry, Dean.  I’m sorry to put this on you.  But please, do it!  Do it now!”

            The look in his brother’s eyes drove all argument from Dean’s mind.  He nodded.  Then he turned to Crowley and wordlessly held out his hand.

            “Impressive!” Crowley remarked, dropping the hex bag into Dean’s hand.  “Are you both planning to seal the deal?”

            Dean quickly stepped forward and planted a hard, fast kiss on Crowley.  He pulled away quickly when he felt Crowley’s hands trying to close on his arms and spat on the ground, wiping at his mouth.  “I need some damned mouthwash,” he announced.

            Crowley was smiling.  “You’ll find a cord attached to that hex bag.  For best results, why don’t you go ahead and just wear it around your neck?”

            Dean spit again on the ground.  Then he unwound the cord and hung the bag around his neck like the world’s ugliest amulet.  “Satisfied?”

            “Quite!”

            “Wonderful.  Now what?”

            “Now, you give him to me.”  He indicated Blake and his smile widened.  “Just bring him out to where I’m standing, if you would?”

            Dean’s first instinct was to refuse.  But then he realized that where Blake was, leaning against the wall of the bunker, was too close to the protective wardings.  For the demon to be able to use his power, Blake needed out of their influence.  Dean grimaced, gestured for Sam to help him, and carefully got his arms around Blake.  Sammy got Blake’s legs, and the two of them carefully carried the big man away from the bunker, lying him gently on the ground at Crowley’s feet.

            “This will only take a moment,” Crowley declared.  “Why don’t you two be a couple of dearies and bring me a chair?”

            “Just help him, Crowley!” Sammy ordered.  “You can sit on your ass on the ground to do that.”

            Crowley eyed the younger Winchester.  “Watch yourself, boy,” he warned.  “You’re not immune to me, Sam Winchester!”

            Sammy gave him a cool gaze.  Then he looked at Blake.  “Will he be alright?”

            “Oh, he’ll be just fine.  We have a deal, and I never break a deal!” Crowley waved them off.  “Won’t be much to watch, and when I’m finished, why, Sexy here will be able to walk back inside and tell you himself.”

            Dean didn’t want to leave Blake alone with Crowley, especially not while he was unconscious and helpless.  But Sammy was pulling on his arm.  Dean reluctantly let himself be pulled back inside.  He followed Sammy into the main room.  Then he grabbed his brother’s arm and jerked him around to face him.  “Ok, what the hell is going on?” he demanded.  “Why did we just make a deal like that with Crowley?  We don’t even know what the hell this bag does!”

            “It doesn’t matter,” Sammy told him.  “That bag could turn us both into eunuchs, and it wouldn’t matter, Dean!  Because if we let Blake die, do you really think we could live with ourselves?”

            “No,” Dean admitted.  “I really like that oversized son of a bitch!  And without him, Cass…”

            To his surprise, Sammy suddenly hugged him.  “Dean, it’s alright,” he soothed.  “The most important thing right now is to get through this.  We’ve got one more week until the full moon.  Blake needs to be at that park to do the spell.  Nothing else matters!  Alright?”

            Dean returned the hug.  Then he stepped back, holding his brother at arm’s length.  “Sammy, what’s wrong?  What did you find out?”

            “That Blake was in more trouble than we thought.  But it’s alright now.”  And now Sammy did a strange thing.  He reached out one hand and placed it on the side of Dean’s face. 

            Dean blinked in surprise.  The two of them had never been especially tactile.  But Sammy was clearly shaken.  Whatever he’d found out about whatever was wrong with Blake, it was apparently bad.  “What is it?” he demanded.  “What the hell did you do?!”

            “I slowed the progression of the spell,” Sammy admitted.  “And it’s going to cost me.  I’m gonna be out of commission for a bit, while I recover.  But Blake should improve.  If he doesn’t?  I want you to fucking kill Crowley!”

            “No problem,” Dean told him without hesitation.  “And I’ll kick the shit out of you if you did anything stupid!”

            Sammy shrugged.  “You know me.”

            “Yes,” Dean agreed.  “That’s why I’m already preparing to kick your ass!”

            “Fair enough.”  Sammy grinned at him.  “Jerk!”

            “Bitch!”

            Sammy chuckled.  Then he swayed slightly.  Dean quickly grabbed him.  “Whoa, easy, Sammy!  You ok?”

            “I…”  Sammy blinked.  He rubbed a hand over his eyes.  “Mmm, headache.”

            “You’ve been studying too hard,” Dean informed him.  “But I really think we should get back out there.  I’m worried about...”

            “Howdy!”

            Dean turned around, and there was Blake, ambling towards them with his thumbs hooked into his pockets and a smile on his face.  The big man looked bright-eyed and healthier than he’d been in a week or longer.  But his smile faded fast when he spotted the hex bag around Dean’s neck.  “Dean?” he asked, his expression going dark.  “What the hell did you do?!”

            “What needed done,” Dean told him.

            Dean braced himself, gearing up for a screaming match.  But Blake didn’t say another word.  He simply looked at the hex bag, and then looked at Dean.  His eyes moved to regard Sammy.  And then, he simply turned and walked away.

            Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  “Ok, he’s upset.  And I don’t blame him.  But you were right, Sammy.  Whatever happens now, it was the only way to save him.”

            Sammy only hummed.  He headed for the library.  There, he moved to the table and gathered up his research, looking hard at his notes before carefully stowing them away.  Dean watched him from the doorway.  “So you gonna tell me what it was you did?” Dean asked after a time.  “Crowley said you figured something out?”

            Sammy paused.  “I found a way to choke off the spell that’s been draining Blake,” he explained.  “It was a spell all along, Dean, one that was on that damned hex bag.  When Blake inadvertently used it to come here, it latched onto him just like it was supposed to latch on to Cass.”

            “So Rowena and Crowley did try to pull one over on Cass?  I knew it!”

            “No, actually he agreed to it.”

            Dean cocked an eyebrow.  “Sammy, that doesn’t even make sense!  Why would Cass agree to something that stupid?”

            “Dean, I don’t know, alright?!” Sammy snapped, startling Dean.  “Ask Cass when we see him!  But the bottom line is, Blake’s got some time now.”  He he finally looked up.  “What Crowley gave him won’t last because I couldn’t break the spell, only slow it down.  He’s still not out of the woods, Dean.  We’ve got to get him home!  That’s the only thing that can ultimately save him!  Otherwise, the next time he goes down on us, he’s not getting back up!”

            Dean straightened.  “Alright, buddy.  We’ll get him home.”

            And then Sammy suddenly paled.  He swayed on his feet and would have fallen if Dean hadn’t rushed to grab him.  “Sammy!  Talk to me, buddy, what’s wrong?”

            Sammy’s green eyes were glazed.  “I need to lie down,” he managed.  “Help me?”

            “Yeah, sure.  Dammit, Sammy, what the hell did you do?!”

            “Everything I could.  Just shut up and help me!”

            Damn, Sammy was pushy lately.  Whatever.  Dean helped his brother into his room, where the big hairball collapsed onto his bed.  Dean shook his head.  “Thanks for leaving me with two invalids to take care of.  Appreciate that!”

            The only thing that moved was Sammy’s hand.  It made a languid shooing motion.  Sammy’s eyes were already closed.

            Dean shook his head again.  He swung by the bathroom, grabbed a bottle of mouthwash, and used it all to rinse his mouth.  Unfortunately, it did nothing to erase the memory.  Twice now he’d had to kiss Crowley.  Well, fuck him.  Soon Crowley would be gone, and good riddance.  Too bad Blake had to deal with him.

            Oh yeah, Blake.  He should probably go check on him.  Rinsing his mouth one more time with water, Dean dried off with a towel.  Then he went back out to find Blake.

            Blake didn’t look any happier when Dean peeked through the open door of his room.  The big cowboy was seated on his bed, his guitar in his hands.  He strummed thoughtfully, his eyes lost in thought.  “Hey,” Dean called.

            “Hey yourself.”  Blake didn’t look over, but invited Dean in with a jerk of his head.

            Dean stepped into the room.  “You look better.”

            “And Crowley looks like shit,” Blake informed him.  “He finished with me, kind of staggered away, announced he was going to retire, and then poofed out.”

            “He can retire forever?” Dean suggested.

            “He kind of looked like he wanted to.  Guy could barely walk!  Can’t say I feel all that bad about it, though, especially now that I see he managed to collar you after all.”  The blue eyes were solemn as they looked at the hex bag.

            Dean scoffed.  “Yeah, well, I hope he enjoys his fun while he has it.  Pretty soon, no offense, but he’ll be your problem.  And I cannot wait to see the ass end of him!”  He came closer and sat next to Blake on the bed.  Then he cleared his throat.  “So what happened?  How’d he fix you?”

            Blake eyed him.  “Well, I woke up looking into those lovely red eyes of his.  Not an experience I’d like to repeat.  But I knew he was helping me.  He had his hands on my shoulders and I could feel it, the energy he was feeding into me.  Now the truth is, I still don’t feel myself.  I’m still tired, still weak.  But I really thought I was going to die tonight, buddy.  I would have died if it hadn’t been for you making that deal with him.  So for what it’s worth?”  He suddenly grabbed Dean in a crushing hug and planted a kiss on the side of Dean’s head.  “Thank you, Dean.  You saved my life tonight.”

            “You’re welcome.”  Dean patted him, trying hard not to relax into the hug.  Suddenly, he understood why Levine had been reluctant to go when he’d returned in Blake’s arms.  The big cowboy gave amazing hugs.  Dean cleared his throat.  “Enough with the chick flick moment, ok, Blake?  Let go of me, dude.”

            Blake let him go.  The blue eyes rested on the hex bag.  “I’m grateful for what you did, Dean, but I just wish there could have been another way.  What’s that thing gonna do to you?”

            “I don’t actually know,” Dean confessed.  “Wouldn’t have mattered.  You were literally at death’s door, buddy.  Sam’s right, we were out of options.  So I suppose I’ll find out now.”

            “The first one he tried to give me was supposed to monitor you, let him keep tabs on what you were up to.  This one probably does something similar.  Hopefully that’s all it does!”  Blake looked disgusted.  “I can’t believe he’s making you wear it around your neck!  What are you going to do to take a shower?”

            “Put a plastic bag on it, I guess.”  Dean reached up and squeezed Blake’s shoulder.  “Only good thing about Crowley is that he always has the best scotch.  And we still got that bottle he brought when he talked to us before.  What do you say you and I hit it until we no longer remember what that fucker even looks like?”

            “Sounds like a plan.”  Blake got up.  “Where’s Sam?”

            “Sleeping.”

            Blake shrugged.  “More for us.”

            “Amen to that!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Fun thinks Sammy did something stupid. Knew it as soon as he touched Dean’s face, wondered what that stupid man did. Agreed with Dean that Crowley could retire forever, was thinking that when the author read it to him. Still stressing and worrying about what will happen to Blake. All three of the guys are now in trouble, but Sam did it to himself. Wondering if Sam found a spell that gives part of his life force to Blake or something? But it seems he can recover, because he said he’d be out of commission for a little bit. So apparently, it’s not that bad, but…


	23. The Answer In The Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy finally loses his temper with Dean, forcing Dean to seek out help from Blake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to JackAtlas for introducing me to this song!

            As long as the hex bag hung around his neck, Dean didn’t have a moment’s peace.  He constantly felt watched.  Over and over, he heard footsteps behind him or saw movement out of the corner of his eye.  Again and again, he’d whirl around.  And every time, nothing was there.  But someone was watching him.  And Dean knew exactly who it was.  By the time Sammy finally woke up again, just before dinner the following day, Dean was ready to hurl the bag to the ground, stomp on it, urinate on it, and then set it on fire, all in the hopes that Crowley would somehow get it in the eye.  But he couldn’t.  If he didn’t keep the bag, it would void the contract.  And Blake would go back to how he was.

            As it stood, Blake wasn’t out of the woods, but he was much better.  He smiled a lot more, laughed and joked more.  He still always looked tired and napped frequently, but there was definitely a bit more spring in his step.  Whatever Crowley had done, it was helping.  And Sammy assured him that, while the spell that was draining Blake was still active, it had been slowed.  It would be enough.  It had to be enough.  They were out of options.  Meanwhile, Dean could put up with the hex bag.

            Dean went to the kitchen, rummaged around for ingredients, and started cooking.  He hadn’t tried to make a new recipe for a while.  Maybe it was time?  He’d always enjoyed experimenting with food, trying to add more variety to their diet.  It had helped, back when he and Sammy were left alone in motel rooms with only the bare minimum.

            Sammy came out to the table, looking like a man with a hangover.  His hair was a mess, his clothing wrinkled.  But his green eyes looked clear and sharp as they locked onto the hex bag.  “I’m still pissed off that he made you wear it,” he announced.

            “Yeah, tell me about it,” Dean agreed.  “I feel a dog, you know?  Like the bastard thinks he owns me now!  But fuck Crowley.  You hear me?”  Dean raised his voice, glowering down at the bag resting on his chest.  “Fuck you, Crowley!  You have me for a week, and then I never have to deal with you again!  And all respect to Blake, but I’m kind of glad his universe will have to deal with Crowley now.  This universe has had enough!”

            Dean heard Sammy sigh, looked back, and saw that his brother had folded his arms on the table and lowered his head to them.  He frowned.  “You need to lie back down, Sammy?”

            “I’m sorry, Dean,” Sammy mumbled into the table.  “I wish I’d found another way.  If only we’d had a bit more time, you know?”  He looked up, his eyes pleading.  “Are you mad at me?  I totally get it if you are.”

            “Dude, why the hell would I be mad at you?”  The question puzzled Dean.

            “I don’t know, maybe because you’ve got that thing hanging around your neck?  I can’t help but feel responsible for that!”

            “Oh bullshit!  Sammy, Crowley was out to get us from the start.  You know that as well as I do.”  Dean tasted his concoction, considered, and added a bit more seasoning.  “When we got to Levine despite all he could do, it pissed him off.  He’ll make me pay for it before it’s all said and done.  I know that, and I’ll deal with it when it happens.  But one way or another, he was going to get this damned thing on one of us.  I’d rather it was me.”

            “Seems like it’s always you, Dean!”

            Dean shook his mixing spoon at his brother.  “Knock it off!  It’s better if it’s me, alright?  It means I can deal with whatever bullshit it brings while you’re free to do the thinking and get us out of this mess.  There’s still a lot to do.  If nothing else, we need to find a way to help the hunters in Blake’s world take that bastard down!  Because right now, I don’t think we’re going to be able to stop him here.”

            “No, we’re not.  Not while he’s got his hooks in you.”  Sammy rubbed at his eyes.  “I did what I could to help Blake along, once he gets back home.  Blake’s got a bunch of things that can help, devil’s traps and the like.  He says he’s got someone over there, a Sam Farrar, that he says is ‘an artsy little shit’ that can draw them.”  He imitated Blake’s Oklahoma accent.  “But other than that, it’s gonna be up to the hunters in his world.  There’s nothing we can do to stop Crowley from going over there!”

            “Yeah, I know.  And I hate it, but this time, Crowley’s won.”  Dean flashed a smile.  “Thing is, Blake’s universe has one big advantage – Blake!  Crowley does not know what he’s up against.  He agreed not to go after him or Adam or their families, and that was his biggest mistake.  Because I guarantee that our cowboy will come after him, guns blazing!  And there won’t be a damned thing that Crowley can do to stop him!  That limey bastard just created himself an unstoppable enemy.  And if Crowley’s got any brains, he’ll keep his head down for the next century or so!”

            Sammy chuckled.  “Where is Blake, anyway?”

            “Napping,” Dean reported.  “He’s still tired pretty much all the time.  Let him rest.  We’ll save him some of this.”

            Sammy nodded and went quiet.  He helped himself to Dean’s creation and sat down to eat.  Dean portioned off some for Blake, helped himself to the rest, and joined him.  Together, they finished their meal in silence.  But then Sammy looked up.  “Dean,” he began, “Blake is right about you and Cass.  You know he is!  Why the hell do you keep fighting this?”

            “Fighting what?” Dean exclaimed, immediately defensive.  “You know, I really do not need this shit right now, Sammy!  I…”

            Sammy stood up so fast his chair fell backwards with a crash.  He slammed his hands on the table.  “Do you have any idea,” he began, his voice alarmingly quiet, “what I would give if I could have Jess back?  Do you know what it would mean to me if she came walking through the door right now?  No?  Well neither do I, because it won’t ever happen.  Because she’s gone, Dean!  Jess was my one true love, my soulmate, and she was taken from me.  That’s life!  I’ve grieved for her and I’ve gone on with my life.  But you?  Your soulmate is gone now, too, but he isn’t dead, Dean!  You’ve got a chance to get him back!  B-but even if you do, it won’t matter.  Because you refuse to let yourself have the best thing that ever happened to you in your life!”

            Dean blinked in surprise.  He opened his mouth to tell Sammy off, to tell him to mind his own business.  And instead, what came out was, “I can’t!”

            “The hell you can’t!” Sammy spat.  “It’s not that you can’t, Dean, it’s that you won’t!  A-and I know why, alright?  I get it!  I was there, too, in that car, living through all of Dad’s bullshit.  The difference is that I got away from it.  You swallowed it all, every word, and you made it your own!  So tell me one thing now, Dean.  Whose voice are you hearing in your head, telling you that you can’t let yourself love Cass?  Is it your own voice, or is it Dad’s?  Because if it’s Dad’s, then you need to tell him to shut up…  No, Dean, I am not finished!” he yelled as Dean opened his mouth.  “This isn’t about Dad’s memory, alright?  Despite all his flaws in how he raised us, I know our father really loved us.  Dad gave his life to save yours!  I was there with you when we gave him a hunter’s funeral, when we both watched the flames and realized we were really alone now.  And I saw the look on your face!  Then when he came up out of Hell after the gate was opened and saved us both again, I saw that same look!  I know that you never really got over it, and that you’ve been trying ever since to live your life the way you think he wanted you to live it.  But that doesn’t mean he isn’t wrong, ok?”  Sammy combed his fingers through his hair and sighed.  “Dean, before Dad died, he told you that you might have to kill me someday, because of Azazel feeding me his blood when I was a baby and how it changed me.  You believed he was wrong then.  Was he?”

            “Dead wrong!  But Sammy, this is just a little different, don’t you think?”

            “No, I don’t!  Because as crazy as it is, even when you saw me tearing out demons and all the other shit that I could do with my powers?  Telling Dad’s voice in your head to shut up was easier when it was telling you to put me down before it was too late than it is now, when it’s telling you it’s wrong to love Cass.  How fucked up is that, Dean?!”

            Dean didn’t know what to say.  He stood as he was, frozen, staring at his brother.

            Sammy, it seemed, wasn’t finished.  “You followed your heart with me, and that’s why I’m here today!  Well, now it’s time to do that again.  Tell Dad’s voice in your head to shut the fuck up!  And then you need to listen, really listen, to your own voice when you ask yourself what it is that you really want?  Y-you need to take a long, hard look in the mirror, Dean.  And when you have the answer?  That’s when you’ll finally know what it is you’ve been missing out on all this time!”

            Dean stared a bit longer.  Then he got up without a word and stormed off.  He went into the bathroom, slammed the door, and turned on the water in the sink.  Splashing his face with the cold water helped.  He turned the water off and simply rested on the edge of the sink, leaning forward with his eyes closed, letting the water drip off.  He reached blindly for a towel and dried his face off.  And then he opened his eyes, and took a long, hard look in the mirror.

            For some time, he stared into his own eyes.  And then, finally, he saw the answer there.

            Dean went out of the bathroom and headed down the hall.  He quickly found what he was looking for.  And then he went looking for Blake.

            Blake was dozing on the sofa in the living area.  Dean hesitated to wake him.  But Dean realized that if he backed down now, he might never again find the strength to do what he had to do.  He gently shook Blake’s shoulder.  “Blake?”

            “Hmm?”  The sleepy blue eyes blinked open.

            Dean’s mouth worked.  He looked down at the floor, quietly pushing the guitar case at Blake.  There was a pause.  Then a pair of cowboy boots appeared in his field of vision when Blake sat up and took the guitar.  “Dean?” he asked quietly.  “There something I can do for you, buddy?”

            “That song you wrote for your husband,” Dean said.  “The one you said you wrote for him when you finally admitted you were in love with him?  You said I wasn’t ready to hear it.”

            “And you weren’t.”  Blake’s voice was gentle.  “Are you ready for it now, Dean?”

            Dean stood as he was, focusing on his breathing, eyes fixed on the floor.  He nodded.

            Dean stayed as he was, staring at the floor as if his life depended on it.  He could hear Blake as the cowboy quickly tuned the guitar.  And then he began to play.  “I asked Adam to meet me someplace, neutral territory,” Blake explained.  “We’d been trying the trial dating thing, you know, after I’d hurt him the way I had?  And it just wasn’t working.  I could see the strain it was having on him.  Day after day, we’d smile at each other and do the things we’d always done, because that was what I wanted.  And I’d let him hold my hand and I’d put my arm around him, because that was what he wanted.  We even kissed a time or two.  And he was damned patient with me.  Adam knew how uncomfortable I still was with the whole thing, especially in the beginning when people were really losing their shit over it.  Adam never lost that smile for the cameras.  But every time I looked into his eyes, I could see it.  That question.  How long was this going to go on?  Why couldn’t I just admit what was already pretty damned obvious to those closest to us both?  And I couldn’t answer that, Dean.”  He played a bit more.  “So I went home, had a few drinks, and did what I always do when I’ve got something that weighs on my heart.”

            “You wrote a song about it,” Dean guessed.

            “And that was when I realized it wasn’t really my voice I was hearing in my head, telling me I couldn’t love Adam,” Blake continued, oblivious to Dean’s startled look.  “It was my family, the folks I grew up with who were good folks, but maybe a little misguided, you know?  Because they weren’t me.  They didn’t know how Adam made me feel.  How happy he made me.  How everything was just somehow _better_ when he was with me.  So when I wrote this song, I think I was talking as much to those voices in my head as I was to Adam.  Finally letting out the truth that was in my heart.”

            Blake was making the guitar sing, once again using the instrument to let his emotions flow.  But this time, the tune was hopeful, almost shy.  “When we met in that park, I can only imagine what must have been going through his head,” he continued.  “I think he knew that this was it, that I’d made a decision about the two of us.  I remember he was trembling, trying to smile at me when I saw him but not able to do it.  We met in the park we’ll be going to, Dean.  And that’s why.  Because it was there, in that park, that I sang him this song.  That was the day that I stopped lying to myself.”

            Dean’s hands were white knuckled as they clutched at each other.  “I’d like to hear it, Blake,” he said softly.  “If that’s alright?”

            Blake nodded and began to sing.  _“You told me boy, look the other way!  You told me boy, bite your tongue.  ‘Cause that's not the way, yeah that's not the way, ah, that's just not the way that friends behave.  No, that's just not the way that friends behave, oh, no, no, no.  No, no, no, no!  You lined me up across the room, two falling sparks, one willing fool, and I, I always knew that I would love you from afar.”_

            Dean forgot to breathe.  He closed his eyes, letting the words flow through him, letting them ring true.  And now Blake’s voice was a bit stronger.  _“You told me boy, look the other way.  You told me boy, hide those hands.  Well, I've been living on the crumbs of your love, and I'm starving now!  And that is just the way that we remain?  Oh, that will be the way that we remain, oh no no no!”_

            As Blake went back into the chorus, Dean’s thoughts were chaos.  It was as if a dam had burst inside of him, one that had been holding back a flood.  Now he was drowning.  But above the torrent, one thing was clear.  He didn’t want to be alone anymore.  He didn’t want to be strong, to be aloof.  All he wanted was a set of loving arms to cling to.  Someone to hold him at night.  An angel on his shoulder.

            His head was spinning.  Dean looked up in a daze, seeing the slight smile on Blake’s face as he sang, the memory of the moment he’d confessed his love for the first time putting a soft light into his blue eyes.  Just thinking of his husband had put more life into those eyes than Dean had seen in days.  _Is that how I look, when I think about my angel?  Do my eyes light up, the way his do?  What the hell have I been doing, what have I been thinking, all of this time?  Why did I keep fighting when I could have had this, what Blake has, and it wouldn’t even cost me a damned thing?  All I had to do was look.  This whole time, it’s been right in front of my eyes!_

            _“It shouldn't come as a surprise,”_ Blake was singing.  _“What I'm feeling, what I'm feeling now!  It shouldn't come as a surprise.  You got darling hazel eyes!”_

            For once, it didn’t matter that Cass was male, or even that he was an angel.  Cass was _Cass,_ the amazing, powerful, gentle, wonderful being he’d always been.  If Dean could see him now, could touch him?  Dean didn’t think anything up to and including another apocalypse could keep him from taking his angel into his arms and holding him tight.

            Dean suddenly realized everything was silent.  He glanced over at Blake to see the cowboy looking back at him.  Blake didn’t say a word.  But from where he now stood in the doorway, Sammy did.  “Dean?  You alright?”

            “It’s wrong,” Dean announced.

            Sammy straightened, frowning.  “What is?”

            “That song.”

            The frown deepened.  “Why?”

            “They’re not darling hazel eyes,” Dean insisted.  “They’re the most beautiful ocean blue!”

            “Then you change it when you sing this song to him,” Blake chuckled.  “And you hold tight to the memory of those pretty eyes, ya hear?  That’s the kind of thing you’ll need to reach out for when we do this thing!”

            “Can you do it, Dean?” Sammy asked anxiously.  He moved closer to Dean and hovered, looking like he couldn’t decide if he should touch his brother or not.  “Can you reach out for Cass, use that damned ‘profound bond’ you two have to bring him home?”

            “No, I can’t,” Dean answered.  “I’ll bring him home because I love him.”

            Blake clapped him on the shoulder.  “Good job, Dean.  That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”

            “Bullshit!” Dean snapped.  “That was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done in my life!”

            And now Blake laughed.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  “I know.  Believe me, I know!”

****

            A few days later, Bobby stormed into the bunker, cursing like a sailor.  _“Dean!”_ he bellowed.  _“Sam!  Blake!  Get your asses out here, boys!”_

            Obviously, he’d found out somehow about the deal they’d made.  Bobby confirmed it when his eyes immediately fell on the hex bag around Dean’s neck and his face turned several different shades of purple.  He bawled the three of them out for a solid minute without repeating himself while he stomped back and forth in front of them and threw his hat.

            And then without warning, he suddenly marched up to Blake and grabbed the larger man in a bone-crushing hug.  “I thought we were gonna lose you, boy!” he mumbled.

            Blake smiled and hugged him back.  “Yeah, I kind of thought the same thing, buddy.”

            Bobby gruffly pulled away.  He turned his back to everyone, pulled out a handkerchief, and loudly blew his nose.  Then, of all people, he turned on Blake.  “Dammit, Blake!” he yelled.  “You told Crowley no!  So why the hell did you let Sam and Dean do it?!”

            “They’re a couple of grown-ass men!” Blake retorted, not backing down a bit.  He seemed unimpressed by Bobby’s rapidly-changing moods.  “I’m right with you on the whole ‘idjit’ thing, Bobby.  I’ll admit I probably did something damned stupid that I’ll regret the rest of my life when I made the deal to let that bastard use the portal.  But I also knew Crowley was right.  We weren’t getting that damned thing open without him!  And as to this latest deal, if this was just about me, I’d have kicked the asses of these two for making it after I’d said no!  But I know now it wasn’t ever just me involved.  Sam and Dean did what they had to do, not just to save me, but because their best friend’s trapped, too!  And Dean, well, I know what I’d be willing to do to save Adam.  Dean needs his angel, and I got no right to stand in his way!”

            Bobby gave Dean a look, seeming to be bracing.  When Dean stayed silent, he blinked.  “Dean?”

            “I need Cass back,” Dean told him.  “I need him, Bobby!  And if this is what it takes to get him back?  Give me the damned hex bag.  I’ll wear three of ‘em!”

            Bobby stared at him.  Then his mouth curved into a smile.  “Finally.  Finally!  Dammit, boy, I thought I was going to have to go upside your head with a ball bat to finally get things through that thick skull of yours, and I was going to have to do it soon!  If you couldn’t get your head out of your ass enough to reach for Cass when the time came, we might never have gotten him back, and Blake wouldn’t have survived!  And if I’d have lost two of my boys because of your stubborn ass...?!”

            Dean was shaking his head.  “Everyone knew!  Everyone knew what Cass was to me except for me!”

            “Of course we knew, ya idjit!” Bobby retorted.  “Dean, you’re like a son to me.  All I ever wanted was for you to be happy!  And you were never happier than you were when you were with your angel!”

            “Seriously, dude, no one could put the light in your eyes the way Cass could,” Sammy agreed.  “Charlie and I were just talking about it the other day, and Kevin mentioned it back when he and I were staying with Bobby, while you were stuck in Purgatory.”

            “I even noticed that, just watching you when you’d talk about him,” Blake added.

            Dean squirmed.  “Is there maybe anyone at all in my life who _didn’t_ know?”

            “Unfortunately, no.”  And now Bobby was surly again.  “Because the asshole outside, waiting to ride out to this park with us, is also unfortunately all too aware.”

            “The asshole out…?”  Dean groaned.  “Crowley’s outside?!”

            “And determined to ride out with us, clear to Oklahoma.”  Bobby retrieved his hat, knocked it over one knee, and replaced it on his head.  “Boys?  This is going to be one damned long ride!”

            “Like hell it is!”  Dean picked up Ruby’s Fucking Knife and went storming outside. 

            Sure enough, there was Crowley, leaning against Bobby’s truck like he belonged there, his ever-present smirk plastered over his face.  Dean took great pleasure in watching the smirk disappear when he grabbed the lapels of Crowley’s coat and slammed the King of Hell against the side of the truck.  Surprised, Crowley tumbled to the ground.  He looked up in time to see Dean press the knife to his throat.  “Now now, let’s not be hasty!” Crowley called, his eyes going wide.

            “Listen to me,” Dean growled.  “I guess it’s no surprise to you that I love Cass, is it?”

            “Not particularly, no.  Your taste in lovers is questionable at best.  But would you mind telling me exactly why it is that you think you can put your hands on me?”

            “Because I know I love him now,” Dean told him.  “And because I want to be very clear!  In a few more days, I will finally have the chance to get my angel back.  And it’s going to happen!  I will get to be with Cass, tell him how I really feel, and finally get the chance to find out if a real relationship between an angel and a man is even possible.  And if you do anything, anything at all, to fuck that up and keep me from having that chance?  I will come after you, and I will end you, Crowley!”

            Crowley looked cooly back at him.  “I assure you, I have every intention of letting you be reunited with your precious angel,” he sneered.  “Far be it for me to interfere with a pair of soulmates!  Now take your hands off of me, before I change my mind about helping you!”

            Dean let him go and took a step back.  His hand went to the hex bag around his neck.  “With this, you can always tell where I am,” he reminded Crowley.  “That means you don’t need to ride with us.  You can just zap yourself to wherever I am, Crowley, and that’s what you’re going to do!  Because I’m not spending any more time with you than I have to!  I cannot _wait_ until you leave this universe, and I never have to set my eyes on you again!”

            And now Crowley’s carefully-constructed façade cracked.  His handsome features twisted into fury as he got to his feet.  “I would have given you anything!” he spat.  “All the power of Hell would have been at your disposal!  The King of Hell, Dean Winchester at his side?  We could have had the entire world!  But no!  You turned your back on me, and went and chose that pathetic fucking blue-eyed cherub instead?!  Fine!  Have him, then!  And don’t you worry, lover boy.  We have a deal, and I’ll see to it that you’re reunited with your one true love!”

            Dean blinked, and Crowley vanished.  For a moment he stood as he was, processing what he’d just learned.  Suddenly, a lot of things he’d never quite understood about Crowley made considerably more sense.  Why the King of Hell varied so widely from being helpful to trying to fuck them over.  Why he always wanted to work with Dean personally any time that he was being cooperative.  Why he’d sometimes gone so far as to take a hit himself or even piss off his minions in Hell in order to help Dean, even when it was difficult to see why.  Dean shook his head in disgust.  Then he turned to see Sam, Bobby, and Blake watching from the doorway of the bunker.  To his supreme irritation, not one of them looked surprised.  “Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed.  “You all knew the King of Hell wanted me?  That’s why he’s been such a prick?!  How long has that been going on?!”

            “As long as we’ve known the bastard, Dean!” Sammy growled.  “It took me a bit to catch on, but Crowley’s pretty much always wanted you.  Why do you think he hated Cass so much?”

            “Because Cass fucked him over on the Purgatory thing!”

            “Because Cass had a chance at something he’d never have, Dean!” Bobby grumbled.  “I knew he wanted you the first time I saw him looking at you, and made it my goal in life to make sure he never got his hands on you!  Why the hell did you think I was so adamant that you not go with him after the First Blade and the Mark of Cain, even before I figured out it would have turned you into a demon?!”

            “Oh,” was all Dean could say.

            Bobby shook his head and smiled at Sam.  “You know, I think that was one of the few times I figured something out before you did, Sammy?  When did you realize, Blake?”

            “I figured it out when he was trying to hold your hand without holding your hand, Dean.  Back when we made that first deal?” Blake admitted.  “I guessed it then, and the looks on the faces of Bobby and your brother confirmed it for me!  Why did you think I was so dead set against him putting anything on you?!  I knew he wanted you, so I was trying to protect you!  You seriously don’t know how glad I am that you just booted his ass out, buddy!  I was scared to death that stupid bag around your neck was some kind of Love Potion Number Nine and you’d want to run off and elope with him!”  He paused.  “Dean, you ok?”

            Dean shuddered.  The realization of how easily the hex bag he now wore could have done exactly as Blake feared made his stomach turn.  Then he realized everyone was staring at him and nodded.  “I’m ok.  It’s just that, as usual, I’m the last to know.  I mean, I knew he had a thing for me, but I didn’t realize it was, you know, _that_ kind of a thing!  Now I finally get why you guys hated him so much, and why you’d always bristle any time he came near me.”  He shuddered again.  “After this, I’m done with him.  If he doesn’t go through this portal, or he tries to fuck us over?  I don’t care how much help he can give us!  I’m ganking his ass!”

            That brought smiles to the faces of the other three.  Bobby actually looked cheerful as he waved Dean back over.  “Get in here, Dean.  We’ll only have one shot at getting this right, so we gotta be prepared!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song here, main theme for Blake and Adam, is "From Afar" by Vance Joy  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4fXh2WCq2hw
> 
> Mr. Fun said he was glad Sammy finally told Dean off and got his head out of his ass. Is even gladder that Dean wanted to gank Crowley.
> 
> Trivia Time!  
> Bobby talks Dean out of the idea in this story. But in the show, Crowley helped Dean obtain the First Blade, capable of killing anything, and the Mark of Cain, which was required to use it. As a direct result of having the Mark, Dean eventually turned into a demon. Crowley was anxious to partner with him, but the Mark was so powerful that Demon Dean eventually turned on and attacked everyone around him, up to and including Sammy!


	24. Crossing The Streams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the night of the full moon, and everything's set to open the portal. But Bobby doesn't trust Crowley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the final chapter in part one of this series! A big hug of thanks to NutCracker for helping with the test reading, as well as IronicPheasant for all her kind encouragement! I'll be taking a bit of a break after this, as next week is my anniversary and Blake's concert, and to deal with some personal issues. I expect to start posting the next part around the end of this month or the beginning of next.
> 
> The picture of the full moon here I actually took myself, which is why the quality is so poor. But long-time readers may recognize this park!

            Crowley looked extremely pleased with himself, and it was pissing Sammy off.  Dean could see it in the flush on his brother’s face, the set of his jaw, the narrowing of his green eyes every time he looked at the King of Hell.  Sammy didn’t trust Crowley and never did.  Bobby wasn’t happy either, but he primarily looked disgusted.  Even the amicable cowboy seemed strained to be near Crowley.  And Dean felt like his skin was crawling.  Had Crowley always openly leered at him like that?  Had he always followed Dean’s every move with his eyes, or made excuses to be near him, touch him?  Or had Dean simply never noticed it before?

            Didn’t matter.  Overhead, the full moon shone down, peeking through the clouds to illuminate the playground equipment in the park.  Tonight was the night.  It was now or never.

            “Shut up,” Bobby told Crowley when he suggested something.  “You’re here as a Duracell battery.  Copper tops don’t talk!”

            “Rude!”

            “Crowley?”  Blake had a scowl on his face.  “Shut up!  And if you don’t stop leering at Dean, I’m gonna bust your head!”

            “Well!” Crowley huffed.  “No good deed goes unpunished.  Looking just a wee bit poorly, Sexy.  Are you certain you’re up for this?

            “I’m fine.”

            “Glad to hear it.  Moose, you’ll want to make that diagonal on the sigil you’re drawing just a little longer on the right side.”

            Sammy made a face.  He made a show of extending the sigil.  Then he stormed over, grabbed his brother’s arm, and pulled him away.  “Are we really doing this, Dean?” he hissed.  “After all the shit Crowley has pulled, are we really helping subject Blake’s world to him now, where we won’t be around to stop him?”

            “Do I look like I’m happy about it?!” Dean growled.  “But what choice do we have?  We still don’t know what the hell is wrong with Blake, but Crowley’s right.  Blake’s starting to look sick again!  The only one who really knows why and how to fix it is Cass, and according to Levine, he said to make a deal with Crowley.  Cass has to have someone he trusts over there, or some plan to deal with Crowley, or he never would have told us to do this!”  He grinned.  “Bottom line, he won’t be our problem anymore, right?”

            “There is that,” Sam admitted.  His green eyes were troubled as he watched Blake.

            Dean glanced over at Blake.  The big man had a hopeful smile on his face as he watched Bobby continue to work.  But there was no denying Blake’s condition was on the decline once more.  Fatigue was evident in his every move.  He was helpfully holding a flashlight so Bobby could see the sigils he was drawing.  But he yawned so much that Bobby finally took the light from him, pointed to a bench next to a gazebo, and waved the brothers over.

            “Let’s go help Bobby,” Dean ordered.  “Right now, the most important thing is to get Blake and Cass back where they belong.  Blake’s looking bad, but he’ll be fine once he gets to his own universe.  As to Crowley, Cass knows he’s coming.  He’ll have a plan in place over there to fix his sorry ass.  You know he will!”

            Sammy’s face instantly smoothed out.  “You’re right!”  He cleared his throat as the two started towards Bobby.  “Just so you know, Dean?  Bobby and I have our own room tonight at the motel, so you guys will have your room to yourselves.”

            Dean felt his cheeks color.  “Thanks,” he mumbled, “but we’re not…  I mean, we got a lot to talk about, so the privacy is appreciated.  But don’t think we’ll, you know, be doing anything!”

            Sammy only smiled.  Bastard.  Dean was scowling fiercely as he held the light for Bobby.  Bobby probably believed that too, that Dean would be intimate with his angel.  Dean couldn’t imagine that.  Ok, fine, he was head over heels in love with Cass, and had been for far longer than he could admit to himself even now.  But that didn’t mean he’d actually be _intimate with an angel!_   Yeah, ok, he’d already done that once, but she hadn’t really been an angel at the time, so it didn’t count.  To sleep with a full-blooded angel at full power?  That was crazy.  And it didn’t matter what he’d done in the shower this morning, just thinking about seeing the look in Cass’s eyes when Dean finally told him the truth.

            Dean smiled.  His angel’s eyes were an absolutely gorgeous blue, except when he was using his Grace.  Then they were kind of a blue-white, but there you had it.  Cass was an _angel,_ and the magnificent, amazing being inside was the one Dean wanted to be with.  The one and only time Dean had met Jimmy Novak, Cass’s vessel, was back when Cass had first started having trouble with the God Mob.  Even though it was the body he’d grown accustomed to seeing Cass in, Dean hadn’t felt attracted to Novak at all.  It wasn’t until Cass had reclaimed the body that Dean had started dreaming of him again…  _Holy shit, have I been repressing this for that long?!  Bobby’s right, I really am an idjit!_

            They had so much to talk about.  Cass was coming home, and they’d be alone for the night.  Dean wanted to tell him everything.  He wanted to beg Cass for forgiveness for putting up for his stupidity all this time.  He wanted to tell Cass how long he’d ignored and denied what apparently everyone else on the planet, in Heaven, and even in Hell seemed to have figured out but him.  But most of all, he wanted to touch his angel again.  Dean suddenly realized he’d just lied to his brother.  Of everyone here, Dean was the only one who wasn’t actually upset about Crowley getting a free pass into Blake’s world.  What he’d said to Sammy was true, of course.  He knew his angel had a plan underway that would result in Crowley hopefully spending eternity in the darkest, dampest corner of Hell.  Dean wasn’t worried.  All he wanted was Cass.

            Dean paused, looking at the glyphs they’d already completed.  Cass would step through the portal right here.  Those blue eyes would find Dean, and a million things that had never been said would pass between them.  Dean didn’t care who was watching or what they’d say later.  He would run to Cass.  He would pounce on his angel, and Cass would take Dean into his arms.  He’d hold Dean close, and Dean would thrill to the feel of that angelic strength as he pressed close against Cass, as their lips met…

            “Dean, do you think it’s possible you could actually shine that light where we’re trying to work?” Bobby called, snapping Dean out of his thoughts.

            Dean cringed.  “Sorry,” he called, carefully aiming the flashlight.

            Crowley cocked an eyebrow at him.  “Something on your mind, Squirrel?  Looking forward to getting into a little heavenly hijinks, some cosmic cuddling, some divine dalliance?”

            Dammit, even Crowley believed Dean would be having sex with Cass tonight!  Well, who cared?  Dean glanced over at Blake and saw the small, happy smile on the cowboy’s face.  Blake had flat-out announced he’d be intimate with his husband tonight.  Dean got the impression that, if Blake could get away with it, he’d go for it right on the ground in the park he’d end up in once he passed through the portal.  And why not?  They were married!

            …Would Cass want that?  Could an angel marry a human?  Dean had never considered that before, but the thought brought a happy smile to his lips.

            “Ooo, look at that!” Crowley cooed, smiling a smile that never touched his eyes.  “Squirrel, you dog you!  My oh my, how you’ve changed!  I mean it’s been obvious forever that you wanted to get all up in that trench coat, but I didn’t think anything short of God himself could have gotten you out of the closet!  Absence really does make the heart grow fonder, doesn’t it?”

            Dean blushed again.  Fortunately, Blake came to his rescue.  “Hey Crowley?” he called cheerfully.  “Why don’t you go fuck yourself, huh?  Get the man a mirror, Sam, and let him shove it up dry!”

            Dean snickered.  Bobby chuckled.  And Sammy flat-out laughed.

            Crowley sniffed and made a show of flicking something off of his sleeve.  “Tick tock, gentlemen,” he called.  “Nine pm is fast approaching!”

            “Alright, we’re ready,” Bobby declared, putting the final touch on the last sigil.  He got up, wincing as his back popped, and made his way to Crowley.  “Alright, spill it,” he demanded.  “What the hell do you have up your sleeve?”

            Crowley extended his arm, pulling down on his sleeve.  “As you can see, my sleeves contain only my arms.  My dear Mr. Singer, I’m about to get exactly what I wanted!  Assuming the four of you aren’t about to renege on our deal, you’re getting what you want, too.  After all, you’re getting rid of me!”

            “I’ve already thanked God for that,” Bobby told him.  “But I still don’t trust you.  Crowley, you’ve always got a hidden agenda, an extra ace to play.  Now look around!”  He spread his arms, indicating the scene.  “We’re all here, Crowley.  It’s way too late to back out now.  So spill it!  What’s your real agenda?”

            Crowley narrowed his eyes.  “I told you exactly what I want.  I’ll help you open the portal in exchange for letting me use it.  Then your darling Castiel gets to be with his lover again, Sexy gets back with his husband and will almost immediately start feeling much better, and I never have to deal with Moose and Squirrel again!  Getting away from you is bonus, Mr. Singer!”  His lips curled into their familiar smirk.  “You are right about one thing, though.  It’s way too late to back out now.  Our last deal gave Sexy back some of his country spunk, but he’s still nearing the end of his endurance.  If he doesn’t take this next train, he may as well lie down on the tracks because that cowboy will not survive until the next full moon!”

            “You know, I will be damned glad to say good riddance you, ya red-eyed bastard,” Bobby growled.

            “You can snog me again, if you like?” Crowley offered.  “You so enjoyed slipping me tongue the last time we made a deal.  I still have that picture!  If you wish to give me a proper goodbye, I’m open to repeating the experience?”

            Bobby’s face looked like a volcano about to erupt.  Dean quickly jogged over and steered Bobby away from Crowley, bringing him over to the gazebo where Sammy and Blake waited.  “Ok, he’s an asshole, but he’s gonna be gone soon, so fuck him,” Dean announced.  “Sorry, Blake.”

            Blake waved a hand.  “I already got some ideas for him, and surely Cass warned Adam he’d be coming.  If the hunters in my world are anything like y’all, I ain’t gonna worry.”

            “Appreciate that,” Dean said, touched.  “Honestly, Blake, you might be able to handle that son of a bitch all by yourself.  After all, you got an angel blade now that you know how to use.  And thanks to his own deal, he can’t touch you or your family!”

            Blake brightened.

            “That’s all well and good,” Sammy began, “but Bobby’s right.  Something’s wrong.  Feels like it’s right in front of my face, but I’m just not seeing it!”

            “That’s it exactly,” Bobby grunted.  “I get the feeling when we figure it out, we’re gonna be kicking ourselves.”  He glowered at Sammy.  “Come on, kid, you’re the brains of this operation!  What the hell is that slimy bastard trying to pull?”

            Sammy had his eyes closed and was scowling in concentration.  But he was shaking his head.  “Something’s wrong.  We all know it.  But I don’t know what it could be!  I’ve checked, double-checked, and triple-checked the spells.  I-I even sent pictures to Charlie and Kevin, as well as a witch I trust.  And everything is checking out!  This spell should work, and should do exactly what we expect it to do, nothing more and nothing less.  The only thing I was able to get that even looks slightly off is that the witch told me there should have been an issue with the original return spell on the hex bag.”

            “The one that brought me here in the first place?” Blake asked, surprised.

            Sammy nodded.  “That hex bag Cass used was damned powerful.  But according to the witch, opening a portal back here should have been too much for it.  She said Cass should have had the same problem casting that spell that brought Blake here as we do now to get him back.  The spell needed more power than the bag had!  So where did that extra boost of power come from?”

            “That’s gotta be what that draining sigil was for,” Bobby guessed.  “I still say something about it is why Blake’s so weak now.  But Dean was carrying it.  It should have been draining him, not Blake!  So I don’t get it.”

            “Cass is using his Grace to open that portal now,” Dean pointed out.  “And we’re using Crowley’s, whatever, his demon-ness.  What’s the problem?  Cass probably just used his Grace then, too.”

            “If he did, it must have been one hell of a hit,” Sammy warned.  “But you’re probably right.  I mean, based on what Levine told us, Cass was in fighting form when he saw him!”

            “You know, something still bothers me about that,” Dean grumbled.  “Has been from the day Levine told us about it.”

            “No one knows your angel better than you, Dean,” Blake noted.  “What is it?”

            “I’m not sure,” Dean said slowly.  “Something about Cass’s wings?”

            “Go on,” Blake encouraged.  “I remember him saying something about big black wings?”

            Dean straightened.  “Yeah, he did, and that’s it!  Cass’s wings were burned off.  All the angels lost their wings when Metatron tossed them all out of heaven.  So why did Levine talk about Cass having big black wings, when all he’s got are these burned-off limbs with no feathers?”

            No one knew the answer to that.

            “Doesn’t matter,” Bobby declared at last.  “We’ll ask Cass when he gets back.”  His eyes shifted between Blake and Dean.  “You two sure you can do this?” he asked cautiously.  “Reach Cass and Adam in another dimension, I mean?”

            “I’m absolutely sure we can do this,” Blake declared, “because I’ve been doing it all along!  I’ve already connected with Adam through my dreams, and sometimes even when I’m awake!  If I’d have realized that sooner, maybe I could have figured out how to use it to communicate with him?  But I didn’t know enough about this supernatural shit to understand what was happening!”

            “Oh?”  Bobby looked interested.  “What do you mean, Blake?”

            “Well, the other day, I got the distinct impression that Adam was scared, that he was being threatened,” Blake explained.  “And then later, the same thing.  But the second time, I think Cass was there.  Because I could hear him!  He was laughing at someone, saying ‘The last thing you are...’”

            “‘...Is a Righteous Man!’” Dean finished with him.  His eyes were wide as he looked at Blake.  “Dude, I heard the same thing, and Cass was seriously upset!  And a before that, I dreamed about him.  I heard Cass screaming at someone, saying, ‘They’re killing him!  Either let me go to help him, or do it yourself!’”  He shuddered.  “I was kind of hoping they were nightmares...”

            “...But you knew that they weren’t.  And something tells me this was about the same time I was dreaming that Adam was hurt and calling for Castiel, begging for help!”  Blake’s blue eyes were serious.  “Dean, I think whatever trouble those morons got themselves into back in my world, they got in pretty deep.”  He rubbed at his face.  “Why do I get the feeling that I’m going to have my work cut out for me when I get back?”

            Bobby and Sammy were staring at them, wide-eyed.  “I-I’d say that pretty much answers the question of if you can reach them,” Sammy declared.  “They’re safe now, though, right?”

            Dean looked at Blake, saw the taller man looking back at him.  Neither of them had an answer.

            “Don’t worry about it now,” Bobby advised.  “The only thing you two need to focus on is connecting to your other halves, alright?  Deal with the rest later.”

            Dean nodded.  They all returned to where Crowley was standing, impatiently scowling.  “Done with your little chat?” he called.  “I’m mind numbingly bored!”

            “Tough shit,” Bobby told him.

            Sammy’s alarm went off on his watch.  “It’s time,” he announced.  “Let’s do this, guys!”

            Dean exchanged a look with Blake, seeing his own eagerness reflected there.  He offered Blake his arm, which Blake accepted with a grin.  “Tell me what to do, boys,” Blake called.

            Bobby pointed at the larger of the two sigils.  “Dean, Blake, you two need to stand there, just outside the perimeter.  Crowley?”

            “I’ll be here,” Crowley announced, stepping into the smaller sigil.  “Gentlemen, I’d love to say it’s been a pleasure, but it’s primarily been a royal buggering pain in the arse knowing the lot of you!”

            “Fuck you, too, Crowley,” Sammy called cheerfully.

            “Welcome to being a pain in my ass,” Blake sighed.  “Ah well.  Worth it, I guess.”

            “I hope so, buddy.”  Every instinct in Dean’s body was screaming now.  This was a fast one.  He was sure it was.  But it was too late and everyone knew it.  He eyed Crowley, who gave Dean a sultry wink and made a kissy face at him.  Disgusted, Dean looked away.

            Blake, meanwhile, was saying goodbye.  He was locked in a bear hug with Sammy, saying something softly into his brother’s ear that made Sammy smile broadly and nod.  Then Blake moved to Bobby.

            Bobby gave him a hug.  Then he jogged to his truck and came back with a familiar guitar case.  Blake immediately held up his hands.  “I can’t take that!”

            “The hell you can’t!”  Bobby pushed the case at Blake.  “This is yours, boy, and I expect you to take good care of it!  Now, I can’t look after you after this, so you’d best take care of yourself so you can take care of it!”

            Blake looked touched.  He slung the guitar case over his shoulder.  Then he impulsively hugged the old veteran again.  “Look after these two jackasses,” he ordered.

            “I intend to,” Bobby replied gruffly.  “You just watch your ass with Crowley running around loose in your world.”

            “Oh, I will.”  Blake let Bobby go.  Then the blue eyes turned to Dean.

            Dean didn’t stop to think.  He charged forward and glomped Blake without warning, almost bowling the big man over.  Blake laughed and hugged Dean tightly.  “You keep looking after your brother, Dean,” Blake said softly.  “And don’t you ever let your angel walk away without telling him you love him.  You never know, especially the life y’all lead!”

            “I won’t,” Dean promised.  He swallowed the lump in his throat.  “I’m gonna miss you, big guy,”

            “I’ll miss you too, shorty.”

            Dean scoffed and pulled free.  “I’d be six foot five too if I wasn’t bow-legged!”

            Blake laughed.  He mussed Dean’s hair, earning a yell, and then turned to Bobby.  “Alright, let’s get this show on the road!”

            Bobby had the spell ready.  He cleared his throat, his eyes moist.  “Ok, boys, here we go,” he announced.  “Crowley, you know what to do?”

            Crowley gave him a thumbs up.  “On it, boss!”

            Bobby appeared unimpressed.  “Keep an eye on him, Sam.”

            “I intend to.”  Sammy strolled over and stood next to Crowley, who winked at him.  Sammy gave the demon an icy stare.

            “What?” Crowley asked.  “No hugs for me?”

            Dean didn’t hear what Sammy replied, but it took the smile off of Crowley’s face.  That immediately put a smile on Dean’s.

            “Blake, Dean, you need to think real hard about Adam and Cass,” Bobby instructed.  “You two both have to establish a link through this portal.  Crowley, assuming he’s worth anything, will be able to power this spell to open the portal, but you two have to guide it.  Look through, sense them on the other side, and reach out for them.  But one thing to keep in mind, and it’s very important.  Dean, you need to focus on drawing Cass to you.  But Blake, you need to focus on being drawn through to Adam.”

            “Don’t cross the streams,” Blake and Dean intoned in perfect unison.  Then they looked at each other and laughed.

            Sammy groaned.  “You never get to call me a nerd again, Dean!”

            “The hell I don’t!  Ghostbusters was classic, but you’re a mega nerd.”

            Bobby rolled his eyes.  “Just make sure you get it right.  Since Cass is powering things on his end and serving as a focus, he’ll have to come through once Blake and Crowley cross over.  So our order here is Blake, then Crowley and then Cass.  And Dean, you’re serving as the main anchor here, just like Blake’s Adam is on the other side.  Now, once it’s opened, it will stay opened for a bit with just one or or both of you holding it.  But you gotta stay focused enough to hold this thing open, especially once the actual crossing over happens, or the whole thing goes boom in a matter of seconds!  Everyone got it?”

            “Of course!”

            “Yup!”

            “On it!”

            “Alright.”  Bobby prepared the spell and looked at Sammy.

            Sammy had his eye on his watch and one finger in the air, silently counting.  Then he pointed at Bobby, and Bobby began to read the spell.  Next to him, Crowley’s eyes shifted to blood red as he focused, powering the spell.

            A moment later, the sigil at Dean’s feet began to glow.  He felt a hand squeeze his arm and looked over to see Blake give him an encouraging nod.  Dean smiled fondly at him.  His heart ached a little at the idea that he’d never see the cowboy again.  But then light began to blaze as the portal opened, and Dean forgot everything else except Cass.  He focused on Cass, reaching out with his mind, directing the portal towards the best thing in his life.  _“Castiel, Angel of the Lord, get your feathery ass over here!”_

            And for the first time in entirely too long, Dean knew his angel had heard.

            There.  Through the blaze of light, Dean could sense a familiar, beloved figure.  He reached towards it.  _“Cass!”_

__

            _“Dean!”_

            He was there, his angel, reaching back for him.  The portal blazed and opened wide, a glowing oval of shimmering light.  Dean smiled in welcome, anxious to greet his angel even as Blake moved to step into the portal.  Dean could hear Crowley coming up behind him.  He noted with no surprise that Sammy had moved forward as well and was standing with Crowley, illuminated by the light of the portal, ready to pounce if Crowley tried anything stupid.  Dean was sure Bobby was back there keeping a watchful eye, too.  None of them trusted Crowley, especially now.

            Fuck Crowley.  Cass was the only thing that mattered.  Dean reached eagerly towards his angel, focused on drawing him through.  _“Cass!  Come home, angel!  Come home to me!”_   Dean took his eyes off of the portal long enough to give Blake a smile.  Blake gave him a thumbs up and stepped into the portal.

            And then everything went to shit.

            Beneath his field of vision, something glowed.  The hex bag.  And suddenly, Dean was frozen in place.  Through his link, he could feel it as his angel was affected too, feel Cass’s sudden fear and fury as he found himself held in place.  And next to him, Crowley’s face split into a grin of triumph.  “Cass!” Dean cried.  “Damn you, Crowley, you son of a bitch!”

            Too late, Sammy and Bobby realized something was wrong.  Before they could react, Crowley’s demons were on them, slamming both to the ground.  Crowley, eyes still red, had come up to Dean.  He reached out a hand and took hold of the hex bag.  Then, with his free hand, Crowley reached up and tore open his own shirt, revealing a too familiar symbol branded neatly into the King of Hell’s chest.  The angel banishing sigil.  Crowley slammed a hand against it, activating the sigil.

            It was like a jolt passed through Dean, originating at the hex bag and flashing rapidly through him, traveling along his link with Cass.  And the only thing Dean could hear was his angel’s agonized scream.  He could feel the link he’d established with Cass strain.  Dean screamed and clutched at his head.  Nightmare, it was a nightmare, time seeming to stretch milliseconds into hours.  An arm went around him, holding him tight.  A hand fisted in his hair, and Crowley was roughly kissing him.  Trapped in his own body Dean could do nothing until Crowley finally broke off the kiss.  But Dean barely registered any of it.  It felt as if his mind was being stretched, pulled thinner as Cass receded.

            Sound.  Sammy and Bobby were screaming, cursing at Crowley.  For a moment, Crowley just looked at Dean as he stood, frozen by the spell.  He stepped close to Dean once more, stroked Dean’s cheek as he leaned close to whisper in Dean’s ear.  “Bye bye, beautiful!”

            And then the King of Hell clicked his fingers, releasing Dean from the immobilization spell, and shoved him into the failing portal. 

            Dean stumbled through, would have fallen if Sammy hadn’t been there to catch him.  Dean clung to his brother.  Chaos raged all around, people yelling and the wind howling.  The pain in Dean’s head was immense.  He couldn’t see, could barely think, and only Sammy kept him from collapsing.  What was happening?  _“Cass!”_ he screamed.  Cass was still receding, the link that still held the portal open twisting in on itself, somehow _pulling_ at Dean’s mind as the magical energies fluxed wildly out of control.

            The link, stretched beyond capacity, went taunt, dragging Dean after it.  Suddenly he was flying, feeling like a leaf caught in a tornado.  Dean tumbled out of control, dragged along by the link with his angel like a balloon tethered to a speeding car.  The landscape was passing by impossibly fast.  He’d never survive this!  He’d be dashed on the ground, crushed against something…

            Suddenly, the link with Cass was abruptly severed, and Dean immediately dropped.

            Dean hit the ground with a thud, rolled twice, and then lay, sprawled, staring up at the full moon.  Everything ached, but nothing more so than his head.  He rolled over onto his stomach, tried to get up, wobbled, and fell back down.  “Cass?” he called hopefully.  His voice was barely a whisper.

            No answer.  Dean looked around, seeing nothing but a well-maintained patch of grass.  He whimpered.  “Cass!”

            Nothing.  No answer but the passing breeze.  Dean reached up, tore the hex bag free from his neck and threw it as hard as he could.  Then he collapsed, going limp on the ground as his head spun. 

            Something moved.  A lanky figure was rising up from behind a shrub.  Dean reached towards it.  “Sammy?  Sammy!”

            The world was going dark, but it seemed the figure heard him.  He was coming closer, stopping over Dean, was it Sammy?  But Dean couldn’t see, couldn’t focus.  Arms went under him, lifted him up.  Dean felt himself hanging limply.  And then everything went dark.

****

            Blake felt like he’d just fallen out of a moving train.  He was lying on what felt like the hardest, coldest, most unforgiving sidewalk on the planet.  

            “Blake?”

            Blake made a small noise.

            “Oh, thank God!  I was starting to think you’d never wake up!”

            Blake blinked his eyes open and saw Sam’s worried face looking down at him.  Blake groaned.  His head was throbbing.  Ok, that was proof he wasn’t dead, which frankly surprised him.  But what happened?  Perhaps more important, where was he?  Blake tried to remember, but his last clear memory was walking into the portal.  After that, everything was fuzzy.  Had he made it through?  Was he home?  And Adam, where was Adam?  Blake remembered the link he’d created with his husband.  That had been amazing, feeling the love he had for Adam returned, feeling the longing drawing him through.  He’d been stepping through the portal, his boots had been on the other side.

            But something had happened.  Something terrible.  All Blake remembered was light, screaming, and a feeling of rapid movement, of being somehow dragged until his link with Adam was suddenly, horribly severed.

            Blake groaned again and tried to sit up.  “Easy,” Sam cautioned.  “You’ve been unconscious all night, Blake.  Go slow now.”

            What was Sam doing there?  Did that mean he was still in Sam’s world?  Now Blake had no idea where he was!  But whichever universe he’d ended up in, Sam was here, too.  And that meant nothing but bad news.

            Sam was anxiously checking him over.  “You ok, buddy?”

            “I guess?” Blake groaned.  “Maybe?”  He blinked his eyes.  He’d been lying not on a sidewalk, but on a bare cement floor.  They were surrounded by construction materials inside of a partially built building.  He focused on Sam.  “Ok, it’s safe to say that at least one of us is in the wrong universe.”

            “Yeah,” Sam sighed.  “I already figured that much out.  And I think it’s me!”  Sam indicated their surroundings.  “We’re in that housing development a few miles from the park, the one you told us was being built in your world?  Present in your world, not present in mine.”

            Blake nodded.  He stepped through the incomplete section of the wall and looked around.  “Then we’re at least in my neighborhood, although we went quite a ways from the park.”

            “Yeah.  We went flying, and when we finally landed, I couldn’t wake you up.  So I carried you in here.”

            “You carried my sorry ass?  That must have been a hell of a chore!”

            “It’s not one I’m anxious to repeat,” Sam confessed.

            “Why the hell didn’t you use my phone and call an ambulance?”

            Sam rubbed at the back of his neck, self-conscious.  “I don’t know anything about this world,” he admitted.  “In my world, I’ve been on the FBI’s radar more than once.  I-I couldn’t take the chance!  Besides, what was I going to tell them when they asked me what happened to you?”

            “Good point.”  Blake gave himself time to get his equilibrium, glancing around again.  He glanced at his watch and swore.  “We lost the whole damned night!”

            “Yeah, I told you, you were unconscious all night.  It’s just past sunrise now.”

            “What the hell happened, Sam?  Why are you here?  What went wrong?”

            “Crowley,” Sam growled.  “That son of a bitch, he had his demons grab us!  He did something to Dean, I couldn’t see what because they had me face down on the ground.  But then he pushed my brother through the portal and threw me and Bobby through right after him!  Bobby barely made it through before the portal collapsed!”  He shook his head.  “That’s what we missed, Blake!  This whole time, h-he’s been saying he wanted a world without us?  Now he’s got it, because he just used that portal to push us out of it!”

            Blake grimaced.  “You called it!  Right in front of our faces the whole time!  Fuck me, Sammy!  I’m sorry, buddy.”

            “Not your fault,” Sam sighed.  “We know all about his tricks and he still slipped that one right past us.” 

            “But what about Adam?” Blake urged.  “Where’s Adam?  Did you see him?”

            Sam shook his head.  “No, Blake.  I didn’t see him or Cass there.  Sorry.”

            Sam’s shaggy hair had bits of grass in it from a recently cut lawn.  Blake absently picked the grass out, thinking.  “My world, huh?  Alright, then.  Step one!”  Blake pulled out his cell phone and quickly called Adam.  Then he grimaced.  “Right to voice mail,” he announced.  “Do you think maybe he’s back in your world?”

            “No,” Sam answered immediately.  “Crowley shoved us all through, and there’s no way the portal could have stayed up long with Cass and Adam gone.  Probably just like he’d planned!  He wanted to make sure none of us got back!”

            “I don’t understand,” Blake complained.  “I don’t care if he is the King of Hell, how could he beat an angel?  Cass should have been able to mop the floor with him!”

            “He probably used that damned hex bag,” Sam theorized.  “It was on Dean, and Dean was linked to Cass.”

            “I still say Cass should have been able to kick his ass!  If Crowley was messing with Dean, why didn’t Cass just come through and curb stomp that fucker?!”

            “That’s the problem!  I think Crowley banished Cass.”

            “Banished him?  How the hell do you banish an angel?”

            Sam shook his head.  “Like I said, I couldn’t see much,” he confessed.  “But there’s an Enochian symbol that will do it.  We’ve used them a time or two.  Hell, Dean used one on Cass himself once!  It could have sent Cass halfway across the country, and if Adam was touching him at the time, he probably went along for the ride!  Honestly, that explains what happened to you and me, as well.  If Adam got dragged off with Cass while you were still linked to him, eventually it would work back through the link and you’d get slammed by it, too!  And since I fell into you when I got shoved through and we were still in contact…?”

            “Domino effect,” Blake groaned.

            “Exactly.”  Sam kicked at a bit of litter on the ground.  “Son of a bitch!  Crowley must have had that damned sigil on him somewhere, but I don’t know where.  I searched that bastard myself!”

            “Well, unless you did a full body cavity search?  Yeah, didn’t think so.”

            Sam shuddered.  “Thank you for that image.”

            “Anytime.”  Blake leaned back and stretched, wincing as his back popped.

            “Hey, you’re feeling better!” Sam noted.

            Blake looked down and nodded.  “Yeah, you’re right!  I really do, I mean, I feel pretty damned sore after all that shit last night, but I don’t feel so drained anymore.  I guess Crowley was actually right.  Whatever was messing me up, it can’t touch me in this reality.  At least one good thing came out of this mess!” 

            “I’ll be grateful for small favors.  Here.  I brought this with us when I carried you in here.  Somehow, it came through without a scratch!”

            Blake gratefully accepted the guitar case.  He nodded his thanks at the younger man, and then gestured for Sam to follow.  “We’re a few miles out from the house, but I got the keys in my jacket.  Let’s get home, figure out what to do from there.”

            Neither man said anything on the walk back to the ranch.  Blake expected to come home to an empty house.  But he was shocked to see the flashing lights of police cruisers parked outside.

            “Um, maybe you better stay back a bit, Sam?” Blake suggested, noting Sam’s expression.  “I don’t know what’s going on, but let’s keep you out of sight just to be sure.”

            Sam was nodding, eyeing the cruisers.  “Good idea.  I’ll stay back here and keep my eyes open.”

            Blake patted his arm.  Then he continued walking towards the house.

            The first person to spot Blake did a double take and then started yelling and waving arms.  A moment later, Carson came running out.  His face was white as a sheet.  “Holy…!  _Blake!”_  

            Suddenly Blake was getting glomped from all sides.  Adam’s parents and his sister were there, as were Blake’s parents.  Both his and Adam’s agents, their producers, and several close friends had apparently been waiting in the house, as well.  Everyone was shouting at once, demanding to know where he’d been and what had happened.  Blake finally had to yell for silence.  “Alright!  What in tarnation is going on?  Why’s everyone here, and why are the police here?”

            “They’re looking for Adam!” his breathless agent told Blake.  He clung to Blake’s arm.  “Dammit, Blake, it’s a huge mess!”

            “Wait, what?”  Blake’s head was spinning.  “Why don’t you start from the beginning?  Why are the police looking for him?”

            “Because that lunatic your husband’s been running with has been murdering people, that’s why!” his mother announced.  “They’ve been finding bodies with their eyes burned out!”

            “Self-defense!” Adam’s father argued.  “I can’t explain the eye thing, but it had to be some kind of high tech weapon he was using for self-defense!  Adam never would have stayed with Castiel if he was a murderer.”

            “Unless Castiel was forcing him!” Adam’s sister pointed out.

            Blake rolled his eyes.  “He wouldn’t force him, alright?”

            “Besides, the last time he contacted us, Adam swore there was an explanation for why he was with that guy,” Adam’s agent argued.  “He said there was a reason for everything that was going on!”

            “He’s right,” Blake agreed.  “There’s a damned good reason for Adam to stick around Cass.  You’re looking at him!  Y’all need to understand, this mother’s son has just been through one hell of an ordeal!  And where I ended up, Cass was the only one who could get me back.  I wouldn’t be here unless Adam stuck with him, alright?  And the more I’m hearing now, the happier I am that he did!  Whatever happened, there’s a reason for it.”

            That settled everyone down a bit.

            “But they’ve gotta turn themselves in and explain it,” Blake’s father insisted.  “And they can’t do that until we find them!  They’re on the run, Blake, wanted men!”

            “Ok, I can see the problem here,” Blake sighed.  Apparently, Adam had more difficulty keeping Dean’s angel under control than he’d feared.  It made sense that Cass would run, because he and Adam needed to be in the park for the spell.  Cass was already prone to throwing furniture and people around, but murder?   _That damned angel must have gone completely nuts!_ Blake thought. _The only one who can control Cass is Dean,_ _but we got no idea where he ended up!_ Well, at least he had Sam.  Sam might be able to settle Cass down.  “I agree, Cass had to have a reason for whatever he did,” Blake declared aloud.  “No way he’d just attack people for no reason!  But why are the cops after Adam?”

            “He’s being charged as an accessory with Castiel, but they’ve been after him since you disappeared,” Adam’s mother explained.  She seemed on the verge of tears.  “They arrested Adam, but there was a big riot at the prison, people got killed, and Adam escaped.  The police think Castiel’s responsible for that, too!  And now they’re both on the run!  And then Castiel killed those other people, and…”

            “Wait, they arrested Adam _before_ Cass killed anyone?” Blake asked, confused.  “And why arrest Adam if Cass is the one killing people?  What did they want him for?”

            “Murder!”  Blake’s mother was clinging to him, looking stricken.  “They arrested Adam for murder, Blake!”

            Blake blinked.  “Who the hell is Adam supposed to have murdered?!”

            “You, Blake!” Carson exclaimed.  “Adam’s wanted for murdering you!”

TO BE CONTINUED!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I used for the end here was "Bye Bye Beautiful" by Nightwish  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eG-3TeIDsPM
> 
> Said “I knew it” when everything went to shit. Made a face because he did not figure out what Crowley’s plan was. The author has been informed that she is a jackass. Mr. Fun also said “Good luck arresting Cass!” Is “a smidge worried” about Dean. Has no idea what happened to Bobby.
> 
> This story will continue!
> 
> Trivia time!
> 
> This is the kissing incident Crowley was referencing with Bobby:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wj1s24RD-YE


End file.
